


Between Clouds and Smoke

by FictionRants18



Series: Themyscira [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, But Not Porn, F/F, G!P, Girl Penis Lexa, I will add tags as the story progresses, Pregnant Clarke, canon & AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2019-10-09 04:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionRants18/pseuds/FictionRants18
Summary: Part two of my weird Themyscira AU storyClarke and Lexa face the repercussions of the events in the past months of their lives. Be it a consequence or a solution, they must journey through it together, and try not to fall apart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi-yah.
> 
> I hope your holiday was a blast too. Thank you so much for the comments and kudos in [Under the Dome](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970706/chapters/37252049). They mean the world, and they motivate me into writing more of this story. 
> 
> This is the second installment of the series; reading the first part is a must for all the words below to make sense.
> 
> Chapter 1 is chill, with minimal plot progress, but otherwise opens links to the next ones.
> 
> xx

 

 

 

 

Clarke awoke to the familiar smell of breakfast tickling her nose. The scent of fried egg plus the inviting aroma of coffee had steamed their way up from below.

With the bliss of early morning enveloping her, she smiled to herself, eager fingers crawling tenderly to her belly. It has the littlest bump now that her baby’s approaching twelve weeks. Soon, her stomach will swell larger, and she won’t be able to roll on her side and sniff Lexa’s pillow like what she just did.

On two separate occasions, she felt the slightest movements inside, similar to a flowing ocean like the name they ought to give their daughter.

The glass elevator dinged to a halt and Clarke parted her lips to a satisfied grin, as she anticipates what’s coming.

Clothed in dark blue silk robe, the Heir of Polis emerged from the foreign ship’s glass lift.

Lexa had slept at the pod the night Clarke announced she was pregnant and had stayed there whenever circumstances permit. Together, they’d battled days laden with Clarke’s morning sickness and mood swings.

At times, Lexa would purposely pull her close, into a kiss even after retching, and Clarke had to swat her away. She didn’t want Lexa to smell her filthy mouth. Lexa would pout then, and Clarke would hurriedly clean up so she could hurl herself back to the the woman who was not only her lover now, but had become the person she shared a child with.

“Good morning,” Lexa’s smile was evident in her voice. Sleep pushed her thick brown hair into disarray but her face was smooth and flawless as always. “How do you feel today?” She set the breakfast tray on the nightstand and served the usual warm glass of water to Clarke plus some mint leaves the Sky girl must chew.

“Hmm..” Clarke rubbed at Lexa’s knee when the woman carefully settled beside her, one leg clipped before Clarke’s chest and the other, dangling down the bed. “No nausea,” said Clarke proudly.

She was happy to have Lexa by her side. The woman had been there with utmost patience, doing whatever she could to help.

Clarke loves it. She loves drifting to sleep beside her, and waking up with the same woman the next day. Often, Lexa will have breakfast ready by the time she opens her eyes. Clarke loves that too. She was actually getting used to it— of Lexa taking care of her from night ‘til morning, even though it only happens twice or thrice a week. Swamped with _Hainof_ responsibilities and with their affair still concealed from the Heda, less than half a week was the most frequent Lexa could manage.

The grounder threw an arm to Clarke’s waist, making her hum as a long thumb reached to the curve of her belly.

“She’s growing,” Clarke whispered.

A tight smirk grew on the Lexa’s lips. “She is,” she agreed, nodding.

“I want her eyes to be green like yours,” declared the Sky girl.

Lexa drew a scoff from her nose. “I suppose we can’t name her Ocean if her eyes are green, Clarke.”

“Huh,” Clarke pouts. Sometimes she hates that Lexa is right and that she hadn’t thought ahead of her. “Fine,” she acquiesced, thinking that it’s too early to finalize a name anyway. There were others on her list where they surely could find one that fits their firstborn. Blinking her eyes, Clarke jumped to another topic. “We have to tell mom today,” she reminded Lexa, who seemed to have not forgotten the agenda.

“After breakfast,” asserted the grounder. “We can.. Uh..” she hesitated. “Radio? her by then, right?”

Clarke’s blonde head bounced in a brief nod, pleased with her lover’s widening knowledge of the Ark. “Correct,” she agreed, head sliding directly under Lexa’s warm stare. “But I don’t feel like having breakfast right now.” She fumbled at the long tie of Lexa’s silk robe, then tugged them carefully in a slow, devious pull.

“Clarke, what are you doing?”

The glossy robe parted at the center, its lapels flowed in slow flaps to unveil Lexa’s tan skin, inch after inch from her breasts down to the apex of her thighs.

Clarke hadn’t expected less. She’d discovered that Lexa goes to bed with nothing on but her sleeping silks, and Clarke had been fancying to do this since. “I miss you,” she breathed sensually. 

“You’re pregnant,” cooed Lexa as though they weren’t both conscious of that obvious fact.

“Then be very gentle,” insisted the Sky girl, watching the flaccid cock grow despite Lexa’s objections. “We haven’t done it in ages..” Clarke hissed, almost sounding disappointed.

It was true. They have not fucked since the beach. They’d been occupied with Polis stuff, then Clarke went all pregnant mode that either of them had ever brought sex up. “Don’t you want it?” she wondered, attempting to make the woman realize how long they have unintentionally abstained. Her silly fingers ran up the woman’s thigh, then sideways to her toned abdomen and slowly down Lexa’s still stretching dick.

All the while, the grounder was catching a series of deep breaths. “Clar-ke—“

“Lexa please,” husked the Sky girl, wrapping the shaft in her hands.

Eyeing her from above, Lexa was swallowing thickly. Strain written over her face as she tries to resist the tempts. She was in serious dilemma on whether to shake her head or arch it backwards as Clarke felt the cock harden in her hand. Her own arousal had pooled to her thighs by then and fuck it, she wasn’t letting Lexa defy the odds.

Clarke slid between widespread, tanned legs. And as Lexa called her name in lukewarm warning, she‘d steadied the base of the shaft with her fingers and had taken the woman’s cockhead to her mouth.

“Ahhhhh.. wh-what..” Lexa moaned as she watched half her member disappear into the Sky girl’s tight lips. The heat forced it to expand in ways she’d fallen helpless to control, her eyes popped out when Clarke licked up the cock, her tongue caressing its skin, leaving it glistening with saliva. “Aahhhh.. Claaarke...”

Knowing all too well that this wasn’t Lexa’s full length, Clarke took her in repeatedly, until the head had pushed to her throat. And there she knew that Lexa was almost there.

The dick was rock hard by the time Clarke released it. It had stood into a vertical rod, head scarlet and swollen as Lexa seemed to finally give in. 

“Are you ready to say ‘hello’ now?” asked Clarke suggestively.

Lexa’s brow arched to the ceiling in confusion. She spared Clarke a questioning stare, before her emerald eyes brightened like the sunlight as she grasped what the mother of her firstborn was insinuating.

Bubbles of sweat formed at her forehead. “Perhaps you have to take another glass of water." Lexa she gulped, defeated. “Before we do it.”

Without skepticism, the Sky girl did as told.

Then Lexa threw her silk robe to the floor, and thereafter helped Clarke out of her night dress.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They’d postponed the radio call ‘til afternoon. Time was hardly on their side that morning for obvious reasons.

Even after sex, some clingy blonde had curled around Lexa for a long while. Their bodies cuddled in warmth, their lips tangled at times, that the Heir found it impossible to leave. Soon, she’s obliged to ride back to the mansion for the sole purpose of showing her face before people stuck their noses into her unusual absence.

But it appeared to be a busy day. It was evening when Lexa had sneaked into the pod again. She‘s riding a different horse whenever she comes, and Clarke suspects they cover different routes too. As always, she was received with a peck in the cheek before Clarke proceeds to hook her robe behind the door. She’d fixed one there for that very intent. The gold cloak, on the other hand was too valuable to just suspend anywhere. Clarke will usually bring it up to the bedroom, or spread it neatly on the couch if Lexa wouldn’t stay.

Clarke watched as Lexa sauntered deeper into what seemed to now be their home. She won’t ask what took the woman so long to come back. Developing romance with a leader involves consequences, and having to share her time with the people was one on them. Clarke understands that. It was a tug of war. Often, she feels like a plunderer who bleeds Polis dry to the bones. But she steals Lexa anyway. She always will as long as the woman lets her, and no matter how long or how late or how short Lexa’s stay will be, Clarke would always wait for her.

Pulling the grounder by the wrist, she led her to the worktable where the two-part radio was already throwing crackles. The gadget did so for the next twenty minutes, which Clarke and Lexa spent in their usual sticky cuddles. It wasn’t long when the noisy waves ceased and Abby’s voice croaked from the speakers.

“Clarke?”

Abruptly, Clarke broke away from Lexa’s tongue and slid her leg off the woman’s thighs. “Mom, I’m here,” she called back, flattening to her legs the linen dress that had been thrown astray.

 _Crack_.

“You wanted to talk?” asked Abby, voice transmitted unbelievably clear. Raven must have fixed something there. “Is there a problem on the Ground?”

“It’s not a problem,” countered Clarke as she brought her face closer to the mouthpiece. “Uhm. I don’t know how to say this.”

She was all of a sudden anxious. It’s not like she hadn’t practiced this revelation, just that the actual event was a different monster. Beside her, Lexa had worn her usual impassive mask, which failed to hide the palpable tension surrounding her. Despite welcoming Clarke’s insistence of making this radio call, she’d been worried sick, almost scared that the Sky girl’s mother would not deem her agreeable.

“Mom you’re..” Clarke gathered Lexa’s cold hand and twined their fingers together. “You’re gonna be a grandma,” she simply blurted out because there was no point in galloping around the bush.

But Abby had a different take. She assumed that her daughter decided to adopt a grounder kid, and Clarke was quick to drag them back to the same page. This time proclaiming, unambiguously, that she was indeed having a baby of her own.

“Pregnant?!” exclaimed Abby Griffin. “Were you pregnant when you left the Ark?”

Shaking her head, Clarke wondered how that idea crossed her mom’s mind. Every twisted corner of the Ark knows she hadn’t been in a relationship in years after a few failed ones. “No, I had her here,” she further clarified.

“How did it happen?” Abby was apprehensive. “With whom?”

Clarke squeezed the tensed hand she was holding. “With Lexa, mom,” she announced, injecting a personal touch when she referred to the woman by her first name and not by any title. Her tone may have revealed how pleased she’d become of the fact.

Once, she’d feared to be among the crowd of grounders who would provide Lexa an offspring. But the woman managed to turn her perception in a smooth one-eighty. Now, Clarke proclaims it with her head held high; proud that it had been with Lexa, the strongest yet the most compassionate grounder she met, an exquisite and beautiful royal, that she’d fashioned her baby. The woman had clicked with her like no one ever had. And even with the burden of Polis’ grotesque culture, Clarke knew better than to regret bearing Lexa’s child.

“The Commander’s Heir,” Abby recalled and took several beats to brood. “Honey, did she force you? Is this the price we have to pay for the grounders to accept us there—“

“Mom stop,” interrupted Clarke violently, heart suddenly hammering within her ribs. What the hell was her mother thinking? Was that really how it would look like on the outside? Regardless, expressing those out loud was ridiculous, whether or not Abby was aware that Lexa was listening.

In a blur, the grounder had stood from the bench they both were seated at. Her boots rattled towards the door as Abby cried Clarke’s name once again in a vexing call.

“Mom! Dang it. Wait.”

Clarke rose, her head churning in circles. She didn’t anticipate this. Sonja was too polite and accommodating to an ideal sense, that she assumed her own mother would offer the same courtesy. “Lexa—“ she almost screamed, her rasp voice echoing onto the mouthpiece. 

Hearing her name, the grounder halted on her tracks, a little too sudden that her intricate braids bounced in the process. And Clarke did not miss that her jaw was clenched and her eyes were specked with fury when she pivoted on her heels.

“Hey,” Clarke hurried to her, bedroom slippers thudding against the metal floor.

It made Lexa double back quickly, meeting the Sky girl halfway. “Careful, don’t run,” she instructed, hand reaching at Clarke’s hip and slowly urged her back to sit on the chair. Her teeth was pressed tightly still, but in her eyes, it was clear that the need to care for Clarke took precedence over everything else.

Lexa leaned down. “I need to go,” she said in a hushed tone, as if to ask permission. “When you give birth I understand the necessity of your mother’s presence. I promise to provide that to you, Clarke. But it was a mistake for me to take part in this call.”

“No, it wasn’t,” the Sky girl opposed, brushing Lexa’s sharp jaw to gentleness. “It was my mistake,” she claimed, voice soft and distant from the radio. “I should’ve informed mom of our affair earlier, like what you did with _Nomon_.”

“I wouldn’t demand that of you.”

“I know,” Clarke rubbed the woman’s tan cheek. “Lexa, our baby is unplanned. That alone would draw ire from people. Some would deal with it with grudge, others will learn to accept it. My mother is shocked, yes. But trust me, she’ll go head over heels with our little Griffin before this day ends,” she searched the Heir’s green eyes and begged, “Please stay for a while more.”

“I apologize for jumping into prejudices,” Abby Griffin’s voice butted in from behind.

Lexa’s eyes widened in surprise and Clarke swiveled to the radio with mouth agape. “Mom, none of those your prejudices were true,” she stressed. Then turned to her lover, who vaguely nodded her civil acceptance of the apology.

Clarke shifted back to the mouthpiece. “You have to take my word for it,“ she asserted. “The last thing Lexa would do is to force me into anything.”

Her mother hummed as though she was considering a thought. “I figured as much from what I heard, honey.”

Clarke let out a low scoff. “My mom is judgmental and an eavesdropper,” she quipped at Lexa, who looked slightly appeased as she carefully eased herself back beside Clarke, who was already planning a massive thank you to Raven for whatever she’d fixed to improve the radio’s reception.

The next hour was spent in medical discussion concerning the baby.

The subjects involving Lexa and Abby were  held indirectly, with Clarke acting like a pigeon who carries scrolls from one island to another, while both her lover and her mom refused to lower their walls completely.

Lexa mostly listened though, and deliberately averted the phrases that lead to the subject of Abby’s impending descent on Earth. The Heda was yet to be informed of this.

Soon, an exchange of polite goodbyes transpired, and Clarke was walking Lexa to the door.

After stepping into her robe, Lexa kissed her belly first, then Clarke herself. “I‘ll try to be back,” she whispered after a light peck at the Sky girl’s temple.

Clarke nodded before sadly fitting the door closed, hoping to open it again later.

But she didn’t manage to. Lexa failed to come back that night.

And in the days that followed.

 

* * *

 

 

Dead leaves shattered under her knees as she knelt by the forest floor. She was panting through slightly parted mouth while she seized the string clipped at her waist.

Hunting was a challenge that day. She’d spent hours in the forest, and it was only now, at almost dusk, that she managed to chase down a brown hare. After looping the string around its tiny feet, she rubbed the loose end at the edge of her spear, cutting it.

Pushing her tousled blonde hair back, Clarke stood, proud of the hunt that was now secured at her leather belt. She patted it twice, humming, before bringing her eyes back front.

And as she does, her blue gaze landed at two shimmering eyes of a forest fox.

Abruptly, she ran through her mind’s list of savage predators, and thankfully found no foxes in it. The creature sat on its hind legs, very relaxed, and not at all terrified of one blonde Sky girl. Clarke stared back at it, admiring its charming white and orange head as she decides whether to turn back or walk past the creature. In the end, she took a soundless step back in an attempt to move away without disturbing the creature’s peace. But the fox tilted its snout towards the dead prey dangling at her hip. And Clarke finally realized what this was about.

“I need it too,” she told the animal whose fluffy tail wagged in fluid curves. “There’s more food for you out there. You can eat rats and I can’t,” she babbled like a motivational speaker.

The fox only stared. Its pointy white muzzle crinkled as it sniffs the air, and thereafter bowed its head, looking so disheartened. Clarke bit her cheek. It was so adorable, her heart was melting. Inside her belly, there was a shallow movement, like her baby had recognized what was happening too. Grinning, she agreed to her mind’s resolve of chopping one rabbit leg off and tossing it over.

But before she could unsheathe her knife, a raging black creature swooped into the scene. It was a wild panther, coming out of nowhere, and immediately capturing the orange fox by the neck. Clarke’s eyes popped at the sight. Her feet shuffled backwards again, wobbly, as hot blood dripped down the predator’s fangs. Feeling her belly stiffen, she gripped at her spear tightly, knuckles whitening. Rigidly, she thrusted the weapon forward in a supposedly intimidating stance. But her lame posture only drew a scowl from the panther, eyes a dark shade of yellow like the sinking sun.

 _Panthers rarely eat humans_ , recalled Clarke from Earth Skills. And the memory may have calmed her had Pike not emphasized that the statement doesn’t liberate men from violent attacks which may result to gruesome injuries.

A creak of dried leaves gave her an alarmed jerk. The predator had apparently released its prey, discarding it to the ground like spit. Then, it piped a feral growl that made Clarke’s skin hairs stand. Her ears had fallen deaf, as though a cloud of thick air blocked it, and her entire body trembled with fright.

_She’s gonna die. They’re so gonna die. Like that poor fox whose limp body lay helpless at the dirt._

The panther crouched then, its front paws edging one after the other to where Clarke was slowly backing away, spear shaking and useless. By the time the animal halted, Clarke’s heart surged to her throat, aware that the predator stopped only to gather the momentum for its forceful leap.

And just when its hind legs were about to spring, a shining silver knife sliced the air in a rapid and sharp projectile. The thrower’s powerful hurl forced a straight path which sent the blade spinning in bullet speed. In seconds, its tip sunk with an abrupt _shuckkk_ at the panther’s left eye. Clarke was certain that the blade slashed its front lobe.

The strike threw the wild animal inches back. Its tongue had fallen slack between sharp canines, and a weak shriek escaped its mouth before the creature collapsed to the ground in a soft thud.

Only then did Clarke crane her neck backwards.

Behind her, clad in her usual elegant blacks, was of course Lexa. Mounted on her own stallion, gold cape flowing to one side, her stance was nothing but composed as a second knife was ready to depart her hand. The grounder’s jaw was pressed to anger, green eyes glistened with ferocity as they bore into the already powerless panther.

“It’s dead,” Clarke absently muttered through her still trembling body.

Her shaky voice had sucked Lexa’s attention at once. And having seen Clarke, the grounder’s formerly glaring appearance morphed into horror, while she slowly realized the tragedy that almost happened.

Sheathing the knife back to one leg, the Heir swiftly swung down the horse. Three long strides was all it took for her outstretched hand to find the width of Clarke’s curvy stomach. Then her free arm wrapped around the Sky girl’s shoulders. The kiss that followed was firm, almost desperate, with Lexa’s lips quivering out of both fear and relief. “Were you hurt?”

Clarke simply shook her head in answer, then weakly dropped its blonde form to Lexa’s chest. And there, she let the sobs go. Soft wails screeched from her lips while she went on crumpling the Heir’s tunic with her fists, unmindful of the river of tears she was soaking it with. 

“It’s okay,” her lover assured against her ear. “You’re safe. You are both safe.” 

The Sky girl almost choked on another sob. “I didn’t know what to do, Lexa,” she stuttered as she pressed her face back to the woman’s chest. “I was vulnerable. You were gone for days.. I—“

“Shhh..” Lexa’s long fingers skated through her blonde hair, slicing its strands in calming strokes. “I’m here now, I won’t let any harm happen to you,” she swore, eyes now damp with unshed tears. There’s an obvious unease in her speech and in the possessive manner her arm enveloped Clarke.

Noticing this, the Sky motivated herself to courage. She battled her fear not for herself, but for the woman whom she was sure felt equally terrified should the slightest harm befall her and their baby. And it wasn’t at all difficult. Within the safe boundaries of Lexa’s arms, her distress gradually chipped away.

“I trust you,”Clarke mumbled later when she caught a strong breath. Her senses were beginning to regain their full function while Lexa continued to hold her close, until her trembles had subsided completely.

“Stay here,” the grounder ordered afterwards. “I’ll retrieve my knife, then we’ll leave.”

Hesitant, Clarke released the clothes she was still clutching. The fabric was wrecked but Lexa did not seem to mind as she took the first step away from the Sky girl.

“Lex?”

“Hm?”

“The fox,” Clarke cried lowly. “He could still be alive?” she speculated, knowing she was wrong.

Green eyes flicked to her in wonder. “If it isn’t dead yet, it will die eventually, Clarke,” stated Lexa matter-of-factly, being all grounder. An expert whose second home was practically the forest. “That bite is lethal.”

“Take him please,” insisted the willful blonde. “I want to check on him.”

The Heir only gritted her teeth. “Let’s see.”

Advancing in usual vigilance, with another knife at the ready, Lexa reached the panther’s defeated form. She hovered the blade over its head while scanning the animal for signs of life. But the predator had stopped breathing. Even its good eye had fallen shut.

The grounder then placed the large cat between her feet. Cautiously, she ejected her knife from the panther’s eye. Clarke watched, without disgust, as blood and slime spilled from the wound that ended its life. Finally, Lexa passed a fatal slice across its neck, before wiping the blade clean using the creature’s black fur.

Then she rose, gaze immediately finding the Sky girl, who was all the while watching with admiration. “The fox is dead too,” she informed her.

“Let’s take him with us.” Clarke pressed. Her guilt flirted with her wits, whispering that had the smaller prey been absent, the wild cat would’ve lunged at her first. “Please, let’s take him.”

Hanging her head, Lexa relented. By the scruff, she collected the animal and returned to where Clarke stood looking triumphant. “There.” She placed the fox in the Sky girl’s hands.

Immediately, Clarke patted the animal’s limp head. “That evil panther punctured his vein,” she spat rather grudgingly, tears resuming at her cheeks while she combs the creature’s injured neck.

Lexa only watched with kind eyes, waiting for Clarke to be ready. It didn’t take long for the Sky girl to mutter a soft ‘Let’s go,’ which prompted Lexa to help them up the horse.

Flicking the reins, she lead them all out of there.

 

/ / /

 

 

Had her doormat been alive, it would’ve retched out of nausea for watching Clarke pace beside it a thousand times. The night was deepening above the ceiling of her metal home. She had eaten, bathed and changed into her night dress but Lexa was yet to come back.

They had engaged in an argument as they reached her doorstep. The subject being the fox which Clarke earnestly wished to keep, and Lexa sought to get rid of. In the end, Lexa managed to convince her to stay inside the pod for safety’s sake, while the grounder herself seek for options to save the animal. Perhaps it was the Heir’s charms that had Clarke agree without much thought, and now she’s alone with neither the fox nor Lexa.

So when a brown and grey haze sailed across her camera, Clarke almost jumped in anticipation. She’d pressed the button that slid the door opened before she was sure that it was actually Lexa who stood at her doorstep.

It was thankfully her. And Clarke’s smile was broad despite the grimace that was returned at her. “You lowered your guard,” the grounder reprimanded, swooping into the pod as the door was sliding shut behind her.

“I’m sorry,” rasped Clarke, hating that Lexa was upset and that she didn’t get to welcome her with a kiss. “I’ve been waiting since you left—”

Lexa pressed a fluffy object to her hands which Clarke failed to notice the grounder was carrying all this time. She glanced at the thing in her palms. It was the same orange and white fur of the fox, but lighter in weight. With two fingers she seized it, then spread its length before her face to behold the clean and intact pelt of the very creature they’ve rescued.

“He had no life, Clarke,” Lexa dejectedly murmured. “It was hopeless. This is all I could do to keep him.”

A trickle of tear dribbled to the Sky girl’s cheek. “It’s perfect,” she breathed, her heart melting the second time that day. “Thank you.”

Lexa, who had gotten rid of her ashen robe, cloaked her in a gentle embrace. While Clarke sniffed her familiar forest and soap scent, she noticed that the grounder had changed into more laid back garments too. Her black shirt was loose and her pants were made of cotton. “You’re staying?” the Sky girl supposed, optimistic.

Lexa’s lips twitched to a smirk, her eyes serious. “I am no longer letting you stay here unguarded,” she said in a tone that made Clarke’s shoulders stiffen in attention. “Wild panthers inhabit the deep parts of the forest. The area where I found you was too far from their territory. They normally don’t loiter there.”

“It wasn't a coincidence,” Clarke realized aloud, meeting Lexa’s troubled but determined gaze.

“She knows,” the Heir confirmed, offering a little nod as though she was aware that the same idea was dancing behind Clarke's blue eyes. “The past days, I remained in the mansion premises on purpose. After _Nomon_ informed me of Heda’s suspicions.”

Clarke’s heart sank, the smooth pelt almost slid from her hands. “Did she find out about Ocean?” she needed to know.

Clarke could tolerate the worst harm the Heda decides to haul at her, but her baby was an entirely different story. One where she’s willing to bulldoze her way into that mansion, with a pistol ready to unload at the Commander.

“No. Not yet at least.” Lexa shook her head and resumed with subtle mimicry. “ ‘ _The Heir had developed and maintained a peculiar attachment with the foreigner,_ ’ was all the scout whispered to Heda’s ear, according to _Nomon_.” She went on. “I’m sorry that I failed to inform you. My hands were tied even to send a warrior.”

Clarke chased her breaths. They knew that the Commander’s influence flows like dirty air, endless and punctures through the tiniest crevices. Still, they hoped her fingers would reach them later rather than sooner. They needed time to furnish and execute effective plans. It wasn’t a walk in the park, given that Clarke’s pregnancy complicated things at the time where Lexa’s power meant nothing.

“What should we do?”

“ _Nomon_ believes I should confess before the people.” 

 “Is that a good idea? Will you?”

The Heir’s eyes fell to the floor. “There may be other solutions. But her piece will be the last resort.”

Clarke lunged to Lexa then, snaking her arms around the woman’s waist, so tight as though she won’t release her in a million years. “Promise me you’ll be safe,” she cried in a hopeful plea.

“I will be, Clarke” Lexa vowed. “Heda launched a discreet move to harm you. I no longer care for her decrees. The need to protect you and our child comes first,” she searched the Sky girl’s beautiful face. “From now on, it will always come first.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the appreciation xx 
> 
> I didn’t expect that much love for the fox! But I’m glad cause Clarke’s going to keep him. 
> 
> This chapter is quite eventful. And I’m ready for the bullets you wish to hurl at me in the end. Chapter 3's draft has zero words at the moment, so I’ll be glad to hear your thoughts— I might consider your preferences (or objections) in crafting it. Surely, warning notes will be in place, if necessary.
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.  
> Pardon the errors. I’ll beta this but the events will of course be the same.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

Ashes. Everywhere she turned there were only ashes.

Polis, her family’s home was beaten beyond recognition. The grandeur it boasted for centuries was turned to soot in only a day. The marvelous city, the evergreen fields and forests, everything that Polis had been, was gone. War had burned its beauty to the ground beyond repair, leaving only darkness for the people to inherit.

Her trembling sandals found the sharp rocks of the pit as she carefully crawled deeper into mountain that served as her fort for days. _Gazing at the disaster above made no sense if you can’t change it,_ she thought and quickened her descent.

The mountain was more familiar to her than the forests will ever be. She used to play with its rich brown clays when she was a little girl. She sketched images on its silver rocks while her father mined precious stones. At sundown, he collected his wage, then they would walk to the markets and exchange the coins for fish or meat.

No matter how fond, those memories were distant now. Now, her father is as dead as the warriors at the surface. Now, she‘s about to deliver her own daughter to a home that had very recently ceased to exist.

Holding on to her belly, her toes found the solid earth at last. Many others had taken refuge there, the people poured into the mountain the past night. Her once silent space was suddenly filled with horrible tales, of stories witnessed by those who had fled.

“Our people were prepared! Our weapons were ready, but the enemy came to shower us with poisonous rain,” an old woman recited, lips shaking as though the scenario was playing before her eyes.

“No one could ever prepare for that,” supplied a younger one. “My good father fell to his knees. He couldn’t hear me even after screaming his name on top of my lungs,” she began to sob. “Blood only oozed from his nose like an endless stream..”

The phrases fell from different mouths, yet they were the same : one’s father dying, agonizing coughs, blood, enemies retreating. The acrid rain. Some recalled it was white, some were confused if they saw a crimson fog or was that indeed blood.

After another week, pieces of each one’s story had formed a clearer picture, a conclusion that the liquid they thought was rain had one by one, day by day, obliterated all the men in their home. Even those who managed to escape had perished when the abundant downpour seeped underground. The toxin was too strong that its mere vapor knocked them to death.

Evidently one step ahead, the enemy planned the attack very strategically. Adamus, Polis’ beloved Heda, had foreseen it wrong. The rival’s retaliation wasn’t gunned to kill the warriors; it was motivated to terminate procreation altogether, to put an end to the race of humans at the opposite side of that decade-long war.

A weeping old woman held her belly one night. “This child is mayhap the last of our kind,” she supposed affectionately.

“The _Fisas_ foresee she’s a girl,” she told her.

The woman’s lips twitched somewhere between sadness and hope. “If the child’s a boy, the rain would have killed him. Her movements are minimal, but I suppose she is alive.”

Her bones shivered but then another thought clicked and tears failed to drip from her eyes. Sniffing, she excused herself and disappeared from the crowd, finally able to place a finger on why the extinction of men did not surprise her.

She heard it from a scout. In fact, she saw him and two others arguing under the dark and low ceiling of this very mountain.

‘The enemy’s leader pronounced it,’ The man was shaking. ‘They will fight not with arms.’

She was trying her best to catch the scout’s distant voice. Having transpired several moons ago, the event was almost lost in the vastness of her memories.

‘They have a weapon that will kill us all. A lethal liquid that brings rapid death to men.’

‘How do we fight it?’ inquired the thinnest man.

‘This,’ the scout held a vial up. ‘My brother, a _Fisa_ , crafted it from forest leaves. It counters the poison.’

‘Heda does not approve of this! He thinks it’s horseshit,’ The third man offered in dispute. ‘Better lose that thing before he call for our heads.’

’If we don’t ingest this, our sons will never see the future!’

‘That attack has no certainty,’ pointed out the thin fellow. ‘The cure may have disappeared in our bodies by then.’

‘We dig a spot under these rocks. We keep it and come back if the attack comes,’ finalized the scout, already crouching to push the rocks aside.

Her sandals kicked the very spot just as the memory faded in the dark. She crouched as low as the scout did, and plucked each rock away from the last.

Then she saw it. A small bottle, made filthy by dirt and time. She was not sure what kind of liquid it was. In the dark, none could be sure of anything. But even then, she wiped the vial clean with her fingers before opening the cap.

Her mind was empty of doubt, it was only full of desire to save her child. Wiping the tears at her cheek, she brought the bottle to her mouth.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

* * *

 

The monitor at her bedroom wall flashed a dark figure and Clarke had to spare it a lazy glance. It appeared to be a random object though. And after concluding that it was, her eyes fell back to her lap, where the thick fox pelt was sprawled, keeping her warm.

She isn’t aware that her free fingers were completely submerged into its soft furs while she reread the scribbles at the paper on her knee. Minus the characters that had been crossed out, Clarke finally managed to form cohesive english sentences. They’re translations from the ancient Trigedasleng book she’d snatched in one of her mansion visits months ago.

In truth, she’d forgotten that it was stowed in her worktable. And it was only that morning, when its leather spine disturbed her vision, that she paid it any mind. Lexa would visit her tonight, and Clarke thinks that understanding some grounder scriptures may be a prolific way to waste time.

She grimaced at her handwriting. For an artist, her penmanship was really untidy.

 _Heda leron meija dula_ (The Commander’s main duties):

 _Fos : Na hed op en shil op em kru._ (First : To lead and protect her people.)

 _Seken : Na huk op goufa kru em era._ (Second : To give children to the people of her generation.)

 _Thot : Na teik em Hainof._ (Third : To produce an heir.)

Clarke smiled as she studied at the third duty, hands finding her belly. Sometimes, she felt too confident that her baby will be the Heir, or perhaps it was Lexa’s commitment to revise the wife-Heir decree that brings her at ease. Still, the looming problem doesn’t bother her. Yet.

Clarke scanned the lower part of the page.

 _Hainof_ (The Heir)

 _Hainof gyon op haisidon gon em tweni fos sontam._ (The Heir ascends to the throne in her twenty first summer.)

Damn it.

Clarke considered throwing the book wildly to the floor. Or better yet peel its brittle pages, tear them so thinly until no word is readable.

Who the hell wrote this anyway?

What right does an old book have to seal the fate of an unborn child?

For a Sky person, the ground surely was paradise. The grounders on the other hand were a few notches close to madness. Had it not been for Lexa and the few genuine friends she made, Clarke wouldn’t have realized the rationality of their absurd culture.

Survival. The preservation of their bloodline. The very lineage that gave her Lexa, and the child who would carry the same heritage. Of course, Clarke planned to instill Arker culture within the walls of their home, whist aware that if her child turned out to be the Heir, there were customs she cannot escape.

A disturbing bang plucked Clarke out of her dreamlike reverie. Her eyes darted towards the wall monitor but found nothing. There was nothing in those frames at least, which meant she must check the control room to see the rest. 

Jumping out of bed, Clarke sent the book careening to the floor. It bounced more gently than she’d hoped but well, she couldn’t care less as the pummeling of her pod persisted while she buried to the lift.

Raven allotted three large computer screens, each split into quadrants, to capture the entire area surrounding the pod. Her feet were barely in the room when she noticed the impaired signals of the leftmost screen. Someone, whose face was obscured from the lenses, was wrecking the cameras.

_Four cameras in two minutes. Fucking grounders._

Another piece was flickering in and out of reception by the time she palmed the controls, fumbling through the commands meant to retract the remaining cameras inward.

“Fucking Commander!” Clarke’s heart lapsed into uproar. Her hands swerved from button to button as she kept up with this ridiculous skirmish against those bastards. She gathered that the scumbags destroyed all surveillances at her little yard first, leaving no visibility of the entire wing. Clarke had no clue if they demolished the benches and racks too. And oh, her white mare! She could only hope that her helpless white mare was safe and sound. 

Knowing she must not be distracted, Clarke hastened her work. On one occasion, the grounder began puncturing the lens Clarke was about to save. She let it go immediately and moved to the next, yelling, “Fucking Commander!!!”

The exhausting, nerve-wracking battle ended with seven busted cameras, and another that fluttered rapidly that Clarke had to shut it altogether. The functioning ones were mostly rear cameras, two of which gave visuals of the forest. The other was located in front where she used to check the beach, and the last was thankfully the door camera. 

Even so, they were useless now. All were withdrawn from the perimeter, covered with metal facade like the rest of the pod.

In a snap of a finger, the computer screens had turned all black, worthless.

In a blur, Clarke was blind.

Surprise hardly faded from her face when she buried it in her hands. What the hell just happened?

And as she let a heavy sigh go, her baby moved, thumping twice inside. She wished Lexa was there to witness it. Their child seldom moved and when she does, it was faint and gentle which only Clarke could sense. She’d ask Lexa to touch her belly several times but the grounder could barely feel the movements.

Another twitch inside erased the unease in her face and this time, Clarke was ready to sooth her stomach with calming strokes. “Hmmm, did you hear what just happened?” she asked softly, then carefully rose to fetch a cold glass of water. “See, you’re gonna have so much fun with your grandparents.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke awoke earlier than usual the next morning. Her eyes opened to the early rays of sunlight as she yawned discreetly.

She was altogether glad to wake up before Lexa. This was her chance to prepare breakfast for a change. Blinking the drowsiness, Clarke kissed the woman’s tan forehead and cautiously glided away.

“Mmm.. where are you going?” Lexa mumbled under her breath, eyes closed still.

And seriously, whenever Clarke thinks she’d gotten ahead of Lexa, she really needs to think again. “I’ll make us breakfast,” she simply explained, voice raspy as usual.

Lexa opened her sleepy eyes. “I should do that for you.”

“Sshhh.. go back to sleep,” Clarke smoothened her tousled brown curls. “Let me do it for us this time.”

“Kiss me again.”

Clarke happily did. This time, at her lover’s lips. “Get more sleep. I’ll be downstairs.”

“Be careful,” Lexa whispered and dozed off.

 

/ / /

 

In soft rustles, leaves swayed with the breeze as Lexa helped Clarke down the wooden bench at her little yard. She’d crafted a small table and placed the logs around it, and Clarke was grateful that those fucking bastards left them untouched. Her white horse was unharmed too, now chewing on a stack of hay beside Lexa’s black one, who only preferred water at the moment.

Closing her eyes, Clarke took in a slow deep breath, enjoying the smell of nature flowing through her nose. “I love it here. I love that we are out in the open,” her raspy voice pronounced as Lexa stuffed a toast with egg and passed it across the table.

“This is dangerous,” the grounder coldly warned again. She was totally against Clarke stepping out of the pod, let alone this ‘breakfast by the yard’ the Sky girl forced her to accept.

“Your vision is gone,” the woman went on, eyes darkly set at Clarke but her other senses seemed to watch the environment. “Without surveillance, you will not see an attack coming.”

Pouting, Clarke gave the bread a discreet bite. “I told you I’m not scared of her.”

Lexa dropped the fork she was holding. Silent for a while, she let the cool wind blow her hair while her eyes bounced up and down Clarke’s face. “Did you ever consider that I am?” She gulped thickly while the blonde’s tongue was tied. Her green eyes were moist with unshed tears, making Clarke’s guilt grip her nerves. “I’m scared for you, Clarke. I don’t know what I can do if she laid a hand on you.”

“She won’t!” insisted Clarke as usual, not missing that Lexa’s vigilant eyes darted to the left direction as though perceiving something.

Clarke’s own hand found the small pistol by her thigh. She didn’t simply went out unprepared, but for God’s sake, they were merely enjoying breakfast few yards from her home. The vicinity was hers. How unsafe could it be?  

“I don’t care, Lexa,” spat Clarke further, her tone a protest and much daring that Lexa’s gaze refocused at her. “I don’t care if she doesn’t want us together! What does she want? A confirmation? Then I will let you fuck me here for all of Polis to see.”

Lexa’s jaw fell and eyed Clarke narrowly for a long while.

The Heir cleared her throat. “That will never be necessary,” she stated, clearly disturbed but forced herself to wear an impassive mask, before checking the left area once again.

“All I’m saying is that I won’t think twice to do anything—“

“Clarke!”

A swoosh in the stillness caught Clarke in a spine-chilling shock.

Another swish to her side was Lexa, who had jumped from the opposite end of the table, practically flying to her rescue. Trapped in the grounder’s left fist, in mid-air, was a long shaft of a loosened arrow. Its sharp head an inch away from Clarke’s temple which was clearly its target.

Lexa scanned the scene to find nothing but a soft gallop of a retreating horse. “Get inside,” she commanded then threw her knee up to crack the arrow in half.

“Lexa,” Clarke breathed through her mouth. “Lexa you’re bleeding.” Only then did the grounder paid attention to her hand, where a stream of blood dripped from a long cut at her palm. “It’s black. Your blood is black. Why is it black?”

“Clarke, get inside.”

“No. Not unless you let me patch this up. My kit is inside, come with me.”

Discarding the arrow to the ground, Lexa made for her stallion instead.

“Where are you going?”

“To Heda.”

Clarke left her seat and followed at Lexa’s heels. “You’re wounded!”

“That’s a scratch. It’s not even painful.”

Struggling to keep up, Clarke reached for the woman’s hand. “It needs to be covered. If you refuse to go in, then spare me a minute to at least wrap it.”

Without waiting for consent, the Sky girl tore a thin strip at the hem from her clean linen dress, then began twirling it carefully around Lexa’s hand. There was no need for stitches since the wound was shallow. Clarke noted that it wasn’t caused by the blade but by the shaft’s speed which Lexa gripped forcefully. 

Once done, Clarke formed a small ribbon at the side of her handiwork. “There.” she raised her eyes to meet gentle green eyes watching her.

“ _Mochof, Klark_.” Lexa kissed her forehead. “Now you have to get inside,” she instructed again before climbing her horse and flicked the reins.

Clarke watched her lover’s figure dance away, her unbraided brown hair bouncing as she rode. In each second and in each gallop of the horse, Clarke’s heart was sinking, worried and uncertain of the events that will unfold in that palace once her lover gets there.

“Like hell I do,” she muttered to herself.

Retrieving the pistol from the log, she mounted her mare to follow.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been months since she last stepped on that massive white place. With its hectic ambiance and with the glaring guards, Clarke was sure it hadn’t changed much.

To her surprise, the smug warriors at the gates made no move to seize her. She was ready though. Clarke itched to pull the trigger of the pistol safely knotted at her thigh.

The double doors opened to a thick crowd of grounders, waiting to express or hear the pleas that day. Quite a large audience at such early part of the morning. They were hushed and still, Clarke observed. And as her eyes searched past the flock of grounders, she understood why.

The Heir was walking at the middle aisle, between the path that people were parting to give her way. With each step, she was inching closer to the throne where the Commander regally sat.

Even the grounder who was pronouncing her plea for the day had risen and disappeared among the thick flock of her fellowmen.

Clarke took another step forward, aiming for a better vantage point just when her mouth was covered from behind and her waist was scooped at the side. She attempted to scream, tears leaked from the side of her eyes as she wrestled free of the woman’s arms, fumbling for any part of the body she could punch.

But Clarke was weak. On top of that, she’s worried to move so vigorously that she’ll suffer a miscarriage. 

Her captor was devoid of armor but her strength was of a warrior. She heaved Clarke into a dim and empty staircase unknown to the Sky girl. With hands clipped behind, Clarke was struggling to move. If she could just  reach down her thigh, she could take the pistol and claim the upper hand. 

“Stop fighting, Clarke,” the captor whispered and Clarke immediately recognized the voice of Sonja. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolish if I release you.”

Clarke nodded before the captors hands loosened around her body.

She turned to Sonja, “Lexa. We should stop her.“

Lexa’s _nomon_ shook her head. “How are you? I apologize if I hurt your belly,” she asked in concern, dropping her eyes to Clarke’s stomach as though she wanted to hold it.

“I’m not hurt,” Clarke replied while they climbed the stairs quietly. “But Lexa. We should go back to the throne room.. I have no idea what she’s about to tell the Commander..”

Clarke held her tongue then as she understood where Sonja was leading her. A corridor, similar to the place they had met, but with few notable differences. First, it’s smaller. Second, the balcony was more elegant, its floor were covered in carpet, the curve of its balusters were made of bronze and gold. And third, it overlooks not a yard nor a garden, but the clearest, unrestricted view of throne room itself.

With mouth agape, Clarke watched as Lexa took the last step to finally arrive at the grand dais. Her brown hair was more disheveled after riding in blinding speed, where the cold morning wind made her sharp cheek reddish. And despite the dire atmosphere of the present, Clarke couldn’t help but spare a second to appreciate how gorgeous Lexa really was.

Lexa dropped to the stone floor one knee, her left fist curled tightly around the linen strip Clarke wrapped it with.

The Commander, looking divine in her black armor and red cape, only followed Lexa’s movements with an indolent gaze.

“Heda,” the Heir’s voice floated from below, settling on Clarke’s ear like music as she attentively listened to her lover’s next words. “I have a reason to believe that our people had grown inhospitable to our visitor.”

“Visitor?”

Lexa raised her chin, chiseled jaw in boastful display. “ _Klark kom Skaikru,_ ” she tasted the name with pride. “Last night, her home was attacked, and this morning, she herself. someone attempted to take her life with an arrow.”

The Commander’s response was a scornful chuckle, the sound loudly heard over the quiet crowd behind. “ _Chit is em gon yu?_ ” (What is it to you?)

“ _Em ste nou kom hir._ ” (She is a foreigner.)

The crowd fell in thin rolls of whispers while the Heda took more time than necessary to respond.

“I care not for foreigners,” declared the Heda, her voice vacuuming all murmurs of the people. “Should the _Skaigada_ lose her life today, I have better things to do that spare her body the slightest glance.”

Lexa’s swallows were visible even from where Clarke stood beside an equally uneasy Sonja. Below them, the grounders were mum too.

Refusing to lower her head, the Heir’s dark eyes were directly focused at the Commander. “I ask that no further harm in any form, would be sent the Sky girl’s way from today onwards.”

A sardonic snort left Heda’s nose. Her curtain of braided brown hair barely swayed as she shifted lazily on her seat, looking at Lexa like she was a boring performance she was watching. “ _Leksa kom Trikru_ ,” she pronounced without a hint of fondness like they weren’t the closest of kins. “You grew up right before my very nose. You are many wicked things, but not one who develops fondness into anything, much less a person and a foreigner.”

Not a fiber of hair moved from Lexa’s body as she maintained her stance and chose not to respond.

“She does not know her,” Sonja judged, verbalizing the words Lexa was unable to express at that moment. “She never did.”

Even with her eyes set below, Clarke listened to Sonja, and in her mind, she agreed. The Heda was wrong. In fact, Clarke could name a few things Lexa was fond of : the knives she cleaned and sharpened every night, the knitted shirts that fit her perfectly, every new information she could use to grow, mint, her rascal horse, her kind _Nomon_. 

Clarke.

Lexa was many incredible things, but lacking fondness on anything wasn’t one of them. Lexa was capable of loving and being loved in return.

Clarke figured that Heda will never get how love works, for one will not understand what one does not possess.

The Heda brought her knee to the air, only to cross it on the other, her demeanor more serious than before. “It was brought to my attention that you share a foolish romantic affair with this Sky girl.” The Commander’s voice was ice that chilled Clarke’s spine instantly. “Do you deny it?”

Everyone held their breaths, waiting for any sound to flow from the Heir’s mouth.

“No,” Lexa wasn’t perturbed and simply added, “ _Ai en Klark kom Skaikru laik teina_.” (I and Clarke of the Sky People are involved.)

Murmurs waved below, more out of shock than surprise that Lexa confirmed the gossip that had perhaps been circulating around Polis for weeks.

As though she wasn’t formidable enough, the Commander unsheathed the knife at her leg. “ _Hainof_ engaging in special friendships,” she proclaimed loudly. “I have long expressed my objection in this. You are fortunate that our scriptures lack the line that forbids this,” Lexa nodded pleasingly because of course she was aware of this.

“But I am no fool,” the Heda spoke again and Lexa clenched her jaw. “The Sky girl is an alien and the law does not apply to her. Until I say that she posts no danger to our people, you must stop seeing her.”

As if to steady her, Sonja’s gentle arm snaked around Clarke’s hip. But nothing could ever calm Clarke for the succeeding exchange that occurred.

“I can’t do that,” Lexa decided, her tone final and cold.

“Are you defying my orders?”

“Heda,” Lexa rose, chin raised relentlessly and Clarke’s heart was pummeling her ribs. “ _Klark kom Skaikru_ is pregnant.”

The words dropped like a bomb in the hall. It polluted the atmosphere with protests, grounders blabbering in frantic tones, their faces berserk. Even the warriors failed to hide how flabbergasted they were of the information.

 _Huh_ , Clarke thought. _They didn’t know?_

“ _Hainof breik oso skrip_!” ( _Hainof_ broke the law!) an angry woman from the middle exclaimed.

“She was yet to ascend!” Added another at the far left wing.

The brawny warrior at the foot of the throne tapped her spear thrice. “ _Shof op!_!!” (Silence!!!), she screamed on top of her lungs, drowning all voices at once.

Everyone’s eyes, Clarke’s and Sonja’s included, refocused at the Heda.

“That,” the Commander spat like venom. “That, my Heir, is punishable,” she declared, a curt smile twitching her lips like this was a celebration.

“Did she know I was pregnant?” Clarke asked Sonja.

“No,” the woman was certain. “Like Lexa, Heda’s face is a mask. She conceals her emotions from the people. But I know that her caramel eyes are blazing with fury at this very moment.”

Clarke nodded comprehendingly as Lexa squared her shoulders, preparing for the verdict Clarke knew she was ready to accept.

“Twenty cuts,” the Heda trumpeted. “For each of you.”

They’ve talked about this. Every crime committed in Polis is punishable by cuts, the quantity of which differ only by the gravity of one’s offense. Twenty, despite being a high number, was acceptable where one usually receives five cuts on each limb. Simple violations such as stealing or brawling in markets receive this penalty, but grave offenses like Lexa’s need an additional punishment, which the Commander will decree.

“Heda, I welcome my punishment,” Lexa bowed reverently. “ _Klark kom Skaikru_ is in a sensitive stage. In truth, she needs her mother here. Clarke is fragile and vulnerable. Please allow me to take the cuts intended for her.”

“What?” objected Clarke. “She can’t do that for me. I can tolerate the cuts. I wouldn’t want her to take them—”

Sonja restrained Clarke from moving, reminding her to tone down lest they’ll be perceived from below. “My child, let Lexa do this for you. She’s trained in combat and wears her cuts proudly like a medal.”

But the Heda settled Clarke’s argument.

“I do not allow it,” she decided in a tone that wasn’t open for questioning. “I care not for _Klark kom Skaikru’s_ health. She is to suffer the penalty of cutting whether her body can survive it or not.”

For the first time since she knelt before the throne, Lexa’s face morphed into anger. Her eyes burned at the Commander, her fists tight at her sides. Then she bared her teeth like fangs, “She carries my child!!!” Lexa roared, voice bouncing in dangerous echoes within the walls of the throne room.

“Your first child,” the Heda countered quickly. “You will have hundreds, and that unlawful spawn you created with that foreigner will matter not. It matters like dust.”

Lexa’s teeth were tightly gritted in her mouth, checking her emotion. “Clarke of the Sky People will not be hurt in any way,” she coldly insisted.

The Commander rose from what seemed like an all day lounge, knife clasped in her hand. She glared at Lexa first then turned to her warriors, eyes narrow and terrifying that a warpaint was hardly necessary to make her look evil. “ _Lok shish op Skaidaga kom nau. Ai na frag em op hir._ ” (Find the Sky Girl urgently. I will kill her here.)

With eyes blown wide in surprise, Sonja pushed Clarke down and pinned her to the wall, hiding and hoping that no one had yet identified them.

Influenced by instinct, Clarke reached for her pistol at her leg.

“You possess a weapon?” Sonja shook her head. “No, Clarke. If they catch you, they will use that to kill you.”

By then, a whirlwind of confusion was also erupting below as the warriors passed glances from Lexa to the Heda. One held the throne at present and the other will seize it soon. Their skepticism on which boat to choose was a real puzzle.

But as the Commander scowled at their reluctance, the poor warriors jerked away in haste.

“ _Em pleni_!” (Enough!) Lexa yelled, freezing them on their tracks.

Liberating her knife from its scabbard, Lexa brought the blade’s tip to her own neck, drawing drops of black blood in the process.

Clarke exhaled a soft ‘No!’ as Sonja grabbed her arm. Below were gasps of wonder and Clarke could make out a few murmurs pertaining to the color of Lexa’s blood.

“The moment you lay a hand at Clarke, I will plunge this knife to my pulse point,” dared Lexa, forcing an unusually tensed demeanor from the Commander. Flabbergasted, her mouth dropped agape as though she had not expected the bold threat.

Swiveling slowly, Lexa made sure she gave the people a glimpse of her dripping neck and the knife that was ready to slice it. “If I die, the bloodline dies with me,” she barked louder for every grounder in that hall to hear, feeding their ears with concrete fact most of them have not still realized. “Polis’ only chance to produce an Heir is my child in Clarke Griffin’s womb.” 

The Heda’s jaw clenched so tightly Clarke thought it would snap like brittle wood. Her eyes burned with disgust at Lexa, who had turned back to face her. “If I die and Clarke dies, your name will be written in history as the Heda who drove our people to extinction.”

Feeling triumphant and proud of Lexa’s monologue, Clarke almost clapped from where she was still slumped at the carpet.

But the celebration was short-lived.

Soon, loud stomps of boots echoed at the staircase. The warriors, different from those they saw below, appeared suddenly. They seized a protesting Sonja first, led her away somewhere Clarke couldn't see before grabbing the Sky girl by the arm and forcing her to stand.

“ _Oso lok Skaidaga!_ ” (We found the Sky girl!)

 

 

/ / /

 

 

It was three full minutes of total blur as though Clarke was submerged in opium. Everything at her line of sight floated like a kite. Apart from the thumping of her heart, not a single sound she heard made sense. Her eyes were leaking continuously until a foggy image of Lexa lurched at her.

“Clarke!” she snatched her from the warriors’s grasps, yelling ‘Let go of her’ and pushing them away in one swing.

“Clarke, what are you doing here?” she sounded angry as she led them both before the dais.

“I followed you..” replied Clarke groggily. 

Clap! Clap! Clap!

The Heda showcased a little drama. 

“Please, come closer.” she urged mockingly, spreading her arms like a hypocrite, then instructed the warriors to return to their posts. 

Clarke opened her eyes wider, pressed it shut, and opened it again to be certain that it was indeed Lexa beside her and that they weren’t both dead.

With Lexa’s arm at the small of her back, she felt safe, until the Heir halted yards from the dais, where the Commander stood sporting the most malicious smirk Clarke had seen.

“I have yet to pronounce your second punishment,” she directed at Lexa, who bowed slightly to welcome the additional penalty.

The Commander pivoted on her heels and lowered herself to the throne.

Then she spoke aloud, addressing the people. “ _Klark kom Skaikru_ will receive no harm from me. Two more of her people are permitted to descend for the purpose of ensuring her safe delivery. Be it against my will, it is possible that she carries the Heir, and it is my duty to uphold the continuity of our race.”

She turned to Lexa. “You have lain with a woman before the ascension. You are no longer pure,” the Heda smiled like a jubilant halfwit. “Now, as chastisement, I order you to lie with another,” murmurs erupted from the sea of people. “The duty to produce an Heir is critical. For now, I’m content with one other woman, for after your ascension, there will be tens and hundreds.”

Lexa froze, her green eyes almost popped out of their sockets and Clarke was dizzy as hell.

“Who?”

A pleased chuckle came to prolong the agony, before the Commander proudly announced what they expected. “Costia.” The Heda smirked again. “She has served the palace well. Bearing the next Heir is something she would well deserve. One of our people, not a foreigner unknown to many.”

The crowd was silent. Everyone knew the Heda favors that woman. And even while other grounders at the right age longed to bear the Heir, there was no way anyone would dispute this command.

The Heda lounged lazily at the backrest of her antler throne. “What is it, my dear Heir? Will you refuse this order despite knowing it benefits the people?”

Clarke, along with her boiling veins, buried her face to Lexa’s chest, her eyes flowing nonstop and her belly was clenching a little. She could hear Lexa’s heart hammering forcefully, her breathing deep and painful.

“The people are waiting for your answer,” pushed the Heda. It was true. One could hear a pin drop in that place.

“Clarke?” Lexa softly called as she brushed the blonde’s hair in soothing curves as though they weren't here.

Weakly, the Sky girl replied at Lexa’s chest, sobbing like a waterfall. “It’s your decision.”

“Lexa?” urged the Heda again.

Lexa sniffed intermittently, her shoulders shaking, pain evident in her swallows. And a faint shriek escaped from her throat as she exhaled the response.“I accept.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Anna— you hit the bull's eye.

 

 

“Clarke..?”

Sweet echoes of her own name teased the almost dead state she was in. She couldn’t feel her arms and her legs were in no shade better, like every limb was detached from her torso. There was only numbness throughout, save for the sting at her chest which was turning more and more unbearable by the second. 

The Commander dismissed them rather abruptly after the hesitant ‘I accept’ was forced from Lexa’s shaking throat. And as though the audience hasn’t seen enough show that morning, they buzzed in a chorus of murmurs, but Clarke hadn’t fathomed a single phrase. She was reduced to an inert entity, and the only clear moment she could recall was that warriors approached them per the Commander’s orders.

In her usual defensive stance, Lexa was quick to unsheathe her sharp knife at their necks. “Don’t touch her!” she growled in English and spat threats in _Trigedasleng_ that Clarke was already too lost to understand. Startled glances were passed here and there but even with obvious hesitance, the guards were wise to retreat. And in a matter of heartbeats, Lexa’s slender arms were wrapping Clarke. 

Then everything suddenly turned black. 

She has no idea how long she’d been out. But now that she’s regaining consciousness, the span of time mattered less because her painful chest has taken over all her attention. It just really hurt so bad that something so special would fall from her grasp inevitably. It was a rare and fucked up battle she could not win.

“Clarke?”

The voice called again. This time ushering Clarke out of the remaining clouds of her unintentional slumber.

Slowly, her eyes opened to nothing but white. Somehow, the impaired vision caused a senseless panic within her. Her nerves had already lost sensations and for a moment, Clarke thought that she might have turned blind too. But well, Abby Griffin didn’t rise to the most celebrated doctor in the Ark just to birth a daughter who’d conclude such stupid diagnosis. So Clarke rolled her irises behind their lids, then blinked repeatedly until the blanket of fog completely vanished.

Immediately greeting her was the atmosphere of mid afternoon, filtering to the corners of a very familiar place. From the furry pillows tucked behind her head to the warmth of candles caressing her skin, Clarke need no further clue to conclude where she was. 

Filling her lungs with the tranquil scent of the room, she realised how long it’s been since she last set foot here. It somehow felt foreign to be there again, and altogether odd to be under a different shell that wasn’t entirely metal. 

“Hey..” 

The tender sound drew her completely away from her trance. And absently, her gaze had wandered to the discrete silhouette of the woman the voice belonged to.

“Hey,” Lexa hovered above her, blocking the afternoon sun with her thick volume of brown curls. Her brows were creased above two green, worried eyes as she piped a question in genuine concern. “Would you like me to carry you to bed?”

Clarke‘s instinct was to reply with a soft ‘Yes.’ Her barely alive arms on their way to snake around Lexa’s neck and allow herself to be carried wherever the woman wishes. Until her hands dropped to the sofa as a clearer recollection of the morning’s events disturbed her mind.

She sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to ease the tension building within, and in hopes to drown the thought of Lexa being obliged to bed another woman, sooner instead of later.

Though at some point, Clarke held herself responsible for this mess. Perhaps if she had not insisted to spend breakfast outdoors, things might have played out differently. Perhaps Lexa may have avoided the certainty of sleeping with the woman whom Clarke had been anxious of since that beautiful day at the pool.

But would it really?

Would Lexa ever escape that same punishment once Clarke’s belly ballooned to its full shape? How long can they evade the penalties before Heda’s scouts discover and leak the secret? 

“Clarke, can you hear me?” asked Lexa softly as she perched at the wooden coffee table, hunching low to search for two heavy blue eyes, which morphed from absent to perceptive as the gentle green gaze caught them. 

Yet too dry and weak for any distinct sound, Clarke’s throat only managed a soft moan, prompting Lexa to seize water from a nearby tray. “Drink,” she ordered, tilting the glass carefully to the Sky girl’s lips. “Come on, Clarke.”

Obliging reluctantly, the Sky girl gulped as much fluid she needed, hating herself because this was the worst time to be physically vulnerable.

“Why..” she successfully pronounced after a while. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked, and had gotten ahead of herself as she pushed her spine away from the couch in an attempt to leave immediately.

But fatigue, quick to remind her that she can’t, dragged her body down. To make it worse, her head spun like a whirlwind that Lexa had to guide her hip cautiously lest she drop to the sofa without much control. 

Lexa’s lips twitched at one side, obviously anxious but with Clarke’s condition, she could only stare blankly.

“I guess there’s no need to tell you why,” she deadpanned after the Sky girl settled in a comfortable position.

Still nursing her stubbornness, Clarke plucked the woman’s fingers one by one from where they were gently holding her waist. “I passed out, Lexa,” she hissed. “But that doesn’t mean what happened back there was erased from my memory.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she paused. In truth, she wanted to pierce that gorgeous brunette face with a deadly glare. But what could that do? What exactly could her protests do to change all these?

“There are cacao bars in the tray,” the Heir resumed speaking. “You need sugar. I’ll give you a serving, and then we’ll talk.”

Clarke simply shook her head measuredly. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

 “No,” insisted Lexa. “We need to discuss—“

A tumult of arguments at the corridor hanged Clarke’s lover in mid-sentence. Huh. Lover. Could Lexa even pass as her lover amidst all these?

Perhaps they really need to talk then? 

Outside, the echoes persisted and with it, Clarke’s eyes had flicked opened, her neck craning towards the door.

“ _Teik ai in!_ ” (Let me in!) a woman demanded, exasperation evident in her muffled voice.

“ _Oso nou sis!_ ” (We can’t allow you to!), objected the guards in unison, before the wooden door rattled at the woman’s insistence to barge inside.

At this, Clarke chanced a glance at Lexa, whose attention was fully directed at the commotion, even while her hand had crawled to the Sky girl’s thigh as if to assure her that everything’s okay.

“ _Beja, Han, hod op!_ ” (Please, Ma’am, stop!), asserted one warrior but barely stopped the persistent whacking at the locked door. 

“Stay here. I prefer you not to move from this couch while I settle this,” cooed Lexa, hand trailing to Clarke’s belly to rub the spot where their child was sound asleep. “You won’t do anything else but to care for yourself.”

“I’ll try,” was all the Sky girl said, causing a momentary smirk at the Heir’s lips before she finally stood, her posture regal as usual even while wearing only plain black shirt and leather pants.

Clarke watched her lover march gracefully towards the entrance. And yes, maybe she would consider Lexa her lover for the time being, because it’s honestly causing her more pain to visualise otherwise. 

At the quarter’s entrance, the door was shaking relentlessly. 

“ _Daun ste pleni_ ,” (That is enough), Lexa barked with authority as she turned the knob and swung the heavy wood inwards. 

In a blur, Costia bulldozed her way in as though she was welcome. 

“You!” The woman exclaimed, her shiny black hair waggling from its neat tie as she rammed an outstretched forefinger at Lexa’s sternum. “What have you done?!”

The question ricocheted across the space, erupting as a snarl from Costia’s mouth, who clearly did not realise the presence of another person in the room. The woman’s brows were raised high as she crossed her arms to her chest, wrapped only with thin leather to boast the stunning cuts of her abdomen. The same brown leather, of illegal length, concealed her bottom. From its tattered hem emerged a pair of long legs, blemished with dried blood at the calves and grey dirt from the ankles down her bare feet. 

“I came back from hunting, and the maids curtsied to me with this news,” Costia explained herself. “Is there truth in their claim that the Sky girl is with your child?”

The woman’s brusque approach stirred unease in Clarke, whereas Lexa had her blank mask in place amidst the misplaced interrogation. For moments, she allowed silence to pass before moving to clasp her hands to the back.

“I didn’t realise you weren’t present to witness my unplanned trial,” she began in monotone, then looked towards where Clarke was biting her cheek. Lexa inclined her head rather exaggeratedly to drag Costia’s attention with it. “Her name is Clarke,” she stressed without taking her eyes off the Sky girl. “And yes, she bears my child.”

The confirmation left Costia speechless for a while, throat bobbling as she swallows the bile in her mouth as well as the weight of Lexa’s confession.

Then she broke the silence with a scoff. “ _Nou em ste kamp hir nau_?” (Does she live here now?)

A little twitch began at the Heir’s lips. “There is nothing I would want more,” she admitted, before finally turning to Costia. “But that decision is Clarke’s, not mine.”

Shaking her head, Costia ignored the retort and instead moved to sit leisurely at the end of the Heir’s bed, as though that was something she often does.

Digging her toes at the carpet below, she lazily traced the furry quilt with the tip of her fingers. And after languidly planting each hand on the mattress, she lifted her pretty face to Lexa. “You were punished to lie with me,” she purred. It wasn’t at all a question. 

Clarke, who was sidelined to watch the drama from the outside, was on the edge of her seat, blood beginning to boil in her veins because what the fuck?! Did Costia just imply they do it right then and there? 

“Lexa—“ Clarke called without a clear reason why. She would’ve tipped a glass or drop a cutlery just to crack this moment that Costia was luring Lexa into. 

Clarke’s well aware of the punishment, thank you very much. She knows that Lexa and Costia need to fuck eventually, even with her senseless denials, even with this pain that paralyses her. But God! Should it be this soon? Can’t she at least be given time to come to terms with it? And more importantly, can it NOT fucking happen before her eyes??

“ _Klark_ ,” was Lexa’s simple response, now looking at the Sky girl and nodding repeatedly to once again remind her to relax. 

Sighing, Clarke’s shoulders slumped, taking note that Lexa was watching her as she leaned back on the pillows.

Only then did the Heir break their gaze. 

Lexa advanced towards the foot of her own bed, hands still clasped behind. “It’s a verdict which I wish is revocable,” she said plainly.

“You broke your vow!” Exclaimed Costia, her ire resurfacing. “And now Heda shoves me to your bed as a punishment. What an utter disrespect?!”

Lexa simply nodded, like the woman’s wrath was something she comprehends. “Trust me, I would give everything to accept a different sentence,” she said and was answered with a violent chuckle she shrugged off. “The verdict hours ago clearly ignited emotions in those who are involved, which is why this isn’t the best time to discuss it, Costia. I think you should leave.” Lexa paused after the polite suggestion. “I need rest and so does Clarke.”

The woman raised a palm in the air. “Spare me your chivalry, beloved Heir,” she snarled, stealing a side glance at Clarke, who didn’t miss how caramel Costia’s eyes were. She has the Heda’s eyes, the same flicker, same glare, in stark contrast to Lexa’s gentle green ones.

“I don’t’ know how much she knows, and I could only imagine what honeyed words the Heda told the People..”

The woman leaned backwards, carefully sliding low until she was lounging on the bed by the elbows. Her chin was raised to Lexa as she went on crossing one leg at the knee, her skirt inching higher.

Clarke, whose jaw just dropped agape, realised only then that Lexa had absently pivoted over the course of the dialogue, leaving an obstructed view of her face. And Clarke was so ready to riot because she needs to see where those green eyes are looking!

But then Costia resumed speaking, her voice suddenly a little sweeter, that Clarke barley had time to dwell on anything else other than listen to what she’s going to say.

“But let’s put things into perspective.. we both know, you and me will be married after you ascend. It’s been instilled in us since childhood—“

"Costia—“ Lexa cut her, quick to extend a hand towards her sister, palm opening above the woman’s barely covered breasts. “Come on, let me walk you to the door.” 

Watching from half the world away, Clarke was oddly disappointed at the interruption, preferring Costia to spill more of these details unknown to her. Unfortunately though, her musings were again halted. This time replaced by a gasp, when a tan hand folded onto Lexa’s. With a force more powerful than expected, Costia attempted to pull the Heir on top of her, and position her between her now parted legs.

But Lexa was stronger. Not only did she prevent the fall, but as her flexing biceps nearly ripped her thin shirt, she’d hoisted Costia off the bed and yanked her to stand. “You must remember very well not to do that again,” warned Lexa, coating every word with venom.

With shoulders suddenly shaking, Costia broke into an audible sob, and Clarke’s eyes may have rolled at the theatrics. 

“I was groomed to be your first!” the woman choked out, swiping at the tears trickling down her jaw.

And what the hell? Sure, this possibility isn’t news to Clarke, thanks to Niylah’s big drunk mouth. But having it confirmed by Costia herself is plain unsettling; It gives truth to Niylah’s absurd assumption and Clarke had never felt more blindsided in this whole Lexa-Costia relationship.

Gritting her teeth, Clarke found that her ‘lover’ had somehow softened at the sight of her weeping sister, and when she spoke, her tone adjusted lower too. “We were raised in an island of ludicrous culture, Costia,” she pointed out. “You shouldn’t have believed everything they taught us.”

“Really?!” Mocked the woman, bitter and desperate whilst her painful sobs continue to escalate. “Since when did your perception change, Lexa? Since a sphere metal ship fell from the Sky?”

“I should’ve talked to you about this—“

“For what? To crush my vision that one day I will be the Commander’s wife?”

“Listen to me.” Lexa grabbed both her sister’s arms, then fixed her with a stern gaze. “Marriage in Polis is extremely uncertain, we all must know not to shape our future towards it.” 

“Didn’t you?” challenged Costia bluntly, wriggling away from Lexa’s grasp. “Each dinner where Heda counsels us about getting married, was your mind always inclined to picture otherwise? Those autumns Heda sent us camping together, did you not consider the possibility?”

“That night of your sixteenth summer,” Costia’s voice dropped the softest as tears continued to pour from her eyes. “Didn’t you, for a second, think that I would one day be your wife when you kissed me in this very room?” She wiped her wet cheeks, hand slightly trembling. “Didn’t you, Lexa?”

Clarke’s chest burned while she await a single word from Lexa’s wise mouth. But the Heir’s redeeming retort never came. Only her eyes twitched as she chose not to react, silent and frozen in place, until Costia marched off and slammed the door behind her. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Candle lights bounced off the ceiling and jumped against the walls. Their incandescent glow, the only source of light from the inside, was barely assisted by that night’s dim moon.

Tucked in a thick furry blanket, Clarke wasn’t sure how long she’d been watching their graceful dance. She doesn’t know how long it’s been since the dinner tray she forced herself to consume was wheeled out of the room. It was overall a cold night and pulling the blankets up her aching chest hardly offered any improvement.

She decided to stay. Despite the earnest longing to go back home, she stayed. 

Her formerly blissful romance, which for the first time made her feel like floating on the clouds, has been thrown on the rocks, and all it took was for this day to exist.

She needed to at least patch the minor wounds up before leaving. She could flee after, and perhaps decide never to come back once Lexa has fully explained herself. Because seriously, she has a bucketful of explaining to do. 

They barely exchanged any words since Costia staggered out of the room. Lexa, clenching her jaw while her fists balled tightly at her sides, did not even dare to raise her eyes to Clarke, who was then merely gaping, waiting for any sound— anything that Lexa would do to break the ice. 

In the end, Clarke herself took the courage to say a word. “I’ll stay,” she mumbled under her breath. “I’ll stay until tomorrow. Until we’ve talked about everything.”

Even then, Lexa only had eyes for the stone floor or the plain wall, and her breaths were deep when she finally found her voice. “Thank you, Clarke,” she muttered very softly, eyes dropped low. “I need to find  _Nomon_.”

That was all she said before leaving the room.

And Clarke had been waiting since.

She stayed by the couch for hours, sprawled over the cushions until the sun had slowly set. When the winds blew colder, she dragged herself up to draw the curtains and had taken to light every candle scattered around. There were more of them than she thought. By the desks, on the cupboards, some had their own creative stands. Lighting each wasn’t that of a chore, she realised. In fact, it was something she didn’t expect to enjoy, to the point of giving them fresh arrangements. Blending colours and shapes in different harmonies that she thought would suit Lexa’s taste. 

Soon, grounder women were serving her dinner trays. Clarke ate only for nourishment’s sake, even without the appetite. Then, after a warm bath, she stepped into the silk nightdress the servants brought and resolved to just curl in bed, lazy and exhausted. 

But still hopefully waiting. 

Where the hell was Lexa anyway? Was this place that enormous to not find Sonja easily? Or worse, maybe she bumped into Costia somewhere in the vastness of the mansion?

Clarke winced at the thought as she dragged herself up to lean against the board, reaching for a pillow to cover her cold chest.  _So they kissed huh_. Costia was the girl Lexa kissed. How could she not pay that more attention before? And now the fact erupted right to her face.

They kissed in this very room, Costia revealed with much conviction, and pain as though she strongly believed the feeling was mutual. 

Of course, Clarke knows how passionate Lexa’s kisses are. How every flick of tongue conveys her feelings. And if she gave Costia the same experience then..

A sudden clatter by the door disturbed the stillness of the space, making Clarke jerk a little. The handle turned and a heartbeat later, the room was welcoming the owner it missed.

Already dressed in her usual satin sleep robe, Lexa brushed her damp hair to one side while walking directly to the bed. She halted by its side where all she did was collect enough pillows and tuck them beneath her arms. “I’ll sleep at the couch,” she decided like no further questions must be asked.

Biting her lip, Clarke allowed the grounder to withdraw, wondering where the hell this iciness came from. Wondering what the hell had Lexa been doing this whole time. 

And as she raised her eyes to where Lexa was slowly retreating, Costia’s words thundered in her head.

_‘Didn’t you, for a second, think that I would one day be your wife when you kissed me in this very room?’_

It just swirled around her unsound head that by the next second, Clarke found herself clicking her tongue and the words were out of her mouth before she knew it.

“Didn’t you?” she pronounced both as a probe and a demand.

At the question, Lexa stopped dead on her tracks. 

“When you kissed her in God knows where in this room, didn’t you see her as your future wife?” 

Lexa’s back rose and fell steadily before managing to form an answer. “It was four years ago,” she simply said without looking back.

“Okay,” Clarke couldn’t take these dodges anymore. She flung the duvets off of her body and threw her legs to stand on the carpets. “Can we just drop the bullshit and jump where you tell me that you wanted to fuck her all along?” She paused to catch a breath. “That the damn punishment is nothing but a charade because you yourself know it’s gonna happen anyway?”

Lexa’s shoulders stiffened at the outburst for moments, before advancing quietly to just place the pillows at the sofa. Then, she twisted on her heel to  _finally_  allow her eyes to land onto Clarke’s since what felt like forever ago.

“I left for a long time to create space and clear the air,” she explained impassively. “In truth, I prefer us to speak tomorrow. Tonight, I know that if I as much as look at you the wrong way, you will erupt like this because things have clearly been taken out of context.”

“Tomorrow and today does not make a difference,” snapped Clarke. “So why don’t you start aligning things into context now?”

“What do you want me to say, Clarke? I am the heir of Polis,” Lexa reminded through gritted teeth, baring them as she tries to compose herself. “All my life, I’ve been prepared to think that I need to bed every woman in this island.”

“I was talking about one woman, Lexa. Just the one. How hard is it to answer one simple question?”

Right then, Clarke was holding too much emotion in her chest. Fury, hopelessness, jealousy, the need to know everything she wasn’t told, the need to be reassured. Name it. She reached for the nightstand to balance herself in a strenuous attempt to fight back the tears, because Lexa evading the question like this isn’t at all a good sign.

She doesn’t even know how she got here. One day her only goal was to survive a presumably radioactive Earth, and now she’d tripped herself into the middle of this friction involving bloodlines and hierarchies.

She got laid in barely a month, then managed to fashion a baby with that same stranger.

Who does that? How possible was that statistically?

Clarke wasn’t complaining though. Sharing a child with someone she could finally see eye to eye with is already the best thing that happened to her boring life. She had long realised that all her relationships crumble because she tends to be superior, a Griffin trait it seems, where her past partners hardly kept up.

Then she met Lexa, a mystery she was drawn to unravel. And as she did, Clarke concluded she was different. Lexa and Clarke were compatible. They were equals.

And that perhaps was why this predicament was a thousand times more difficult to face. Because she had fallen deep into this. Into her. It doesn’t matter how fast, since all she cares about now is how possibly she could survive sharing, or worse, letting go of someone she was certain she could never find again.

“Can you just please answer the question,” she insisted rather softly after a while.

“Yes,” Lexa finally admitted almost abruptly, snapping an artery or two in Clarke. “That night we shared a kiss, I did.” 

And that had successfully pushed Clarke’s tear from absently falling. In their own volition, her feet crossed the room, advancing forward without giving two fucks about the cold the floor beneath her bare feet. Everything feels cold and dead anyway. “You were raised to marry her,” she choked out, defeated. “Why did you hide that from me?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does!” cried Clarke louder than intended despite her frail form. “I try not to pressure myself into birthing the Heir because _fuck your fucked up culture_ , but my child deserves acceptance whoever she turns out to be!” she snarled, every knuckle white as anger and desperation got the better of her. “But I was stupid. So stupid to hope that you’ll stay by our side.” She paused to wipe her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Obviously, I misread that something special went on between us.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what is?”

“One kiss, Clarke. One kiss that never happened again in four years,” she pointed out, eyes and tone equally stern.

She took one step forward; seemingly intending to head over to where the Sky girl was sobbing. But unlike Costia’s lame wails, Clarke maintained a strong, indignant face even as she cries, and that made Lexa decide to stay where she was.

But after a long pause, she said honestly. “I’ve known you for months and I hardly endure a week without kissing you.”

The words pushed Clarke’s tongue back a little, her chest losing few notches of pain. It was somehow a relief to be reassured, of course. It was a relief, but that doesn’t make it all okay. So even though she wished to bask longer in this, Clarke insisted her argument. “That wouldn’t matter if she becomes your wife,” she deadpanned.

Clenching her jaw, Lexa softly answered, “I will be there for you and our child, Clarke. I promise you that.”

Immediately, Clarke piped humourless laugh. “How?!” She scoffed through her relentless sobs. “After that act she pulled off earlier, who’s to say she won’t lock you here if she managed to birth the Heir?”

“Hey, stop crying. That’s not good for you and Ocean,” Lexa diverted, this time braving the scowls sent her way and just boldly erased the mile separating them. As she drew closer, her arm stretched forward in an attempt to take the hand that was swiping at the Clarke’s damp face, so she can wipe those tears herself.

“No,” the Sky girl leaned her face away. “We’re still talking. Don’t you dare sway me with those gentle touches.”

Frozen by the rejection, Lexa bit her cheek. “After my ascension, I can choose who stays in this place,” she whispered, still reluctant to move and receive repulsion. “You know I will always invite you to take residence here, if you will permit it.”

Clarke threw a chuckle. “How is that even up to me? Your people will rebel against you, Lexa. Do you really expect me to agree into something that will earn you disrespect?”

The Heir shook her head frantically. “It won’t come to that.”

“You know what,” Clarke raised her arms in the air in a surrender position, then took a deep breath as she strove to shift to a more level-headed approach, because Lexa was promising the stars and it makes zero sense.

“Even if _hypothetically_ , I agreed to stay in this mansion, conflict couldn’t be avoided because Costia is here. She’s your sister and she lives here.”

At this, a vibrant sparkle crossed Lexa’s green eyes, like something clicked and Clarke was all the more lost.

The grounder stepped closer then, so close that Clarke could smell her. “Listen to me,” Lexa urged as she tried to hold her again. And unlike before, Clarke did not resist this. For a moment, she forgot her anger because every time she breathes, the fragrant scent of Lexa claims her nose. It weakens her to the knees as she realised how much she missed her.  

Carefully, Lexa went on to place her palms on her hips, steadying her and halting her sobs. “If luck isn’t on her side and she doesn’t birth the Heir,” Lexa went on speaking, puffing mint to Clarke’s face.” As the Commander, I have the authority to order her and her mother’ departure from the mansion premises. Should they attempt to—“ Lexa paused as she captured Clarke’s widened, startled blue eyes. “What?”

“Nothing I just..” Clarke stuttered, blinking frantically. “I.. I’ve always assumed she was Sonja’s daughter.”

“No, Clarke. Her mother’s name is Esmé.” Lexa sighed. “Heda’s great love.”

In utter daze, an inaudible gasp passed through Clarke’s mouth in sync with the dropping of her jaw. “Uh.. what about Sonja?”

“Heda never loved her.” Lexa abruptly announced matter-of-factly, causing Clarke’s heart to join her jaw on the floor. Her face wasn’t a blank mask. It was as though she really felt nothing, like she got used to telling this story over and over that it no longer affects her.

For a girl who grew up in Space, this tale gravely saddened Clarke. Arkers firmly believe in marriage and family given the closed system they lived in. Each was free to choose a partner, every husband loves her wife, all parents adore their children. They all lived in harmony. And even while they, too, struggle to survive, they were happy.

Polis, of course is the opposite in the most grotesque of ways.

Breathing steadily, Clarke held Lexa’s glassy eyes. She realised that if she looked deeper, she could see not only a pair of pretty green irises, but an entire universe, beautifully revolving in circles. A perfect world that is far from here, free of all these troubles. 

 _I’ll take her with me to the Ark,_ she thought.  _If that’s where I could shower her with love and happiness. If that’s the only place she could get the world she deserves_.    

Clarke’s arm unrestrictedly rose to trail towards Lexa’s face then. With furrowed brows, the grounder gazed at her in wonder, because seconds ago Clarke had her walls shut and now her fingers were exploring Lexa’s jaw like all the wickedness of that day never happened.

“Go on,” Clarke softly urged Lexa to continue, tears brimming at her eyes once again as though this depressing story was hers.

“ _Nomon_  is only here because of me,” Lexa resumed and paused to relish the strokes Clarke was making at her cheekbones. “Because she gave birth to me, the Commander had no choice but to take her as a wife.”

“Mmm.” Clarke nodded her understanding.

Then her hip was driven to a one-eighty degree turn, moving measuredly within Lexa’s expert hold until Clarke was facing the bed. She could feel the body that pressed behind her, before toned arms secured her in a wrap, and two hands finally clasped at the small curve of her belly

“Come on,” Lexa breathed at her neck before her blonde head lolled onto the grounder’s shoulder. “It’s late; let’s get you both to bed.”

“Take us there-”

And before she could even finish her sentence, her body had curled onto Lexa’s arm. Just like that, the wall that was driven between them that day seemed to melt, and they let it disappear for a while despite knowing that there’s yet a mountain to climb moving forward.

“And can you please fetch those pillows from that fucking couch already?” taunted Clarke when Lexa lowered her to the mattress.

The grounder offered no reply to that, but just flashed her usual smirk and did as told. 

“So..” pondered Clarke while she sat up waiting in bed. “Even with Sonja here, Heda still brought Esmé over.. how awkward is that for all three of them? How does Sonja deal with it?”

“Sonja knows that all along. The people are aware that it’s a privilege a Commander can enjoy,” expounded Lexa as she sauntered back to the bed. “Given that the law of heirship prevents her to choose a wife.”

Lexa stacked her own pillows against the bed frame then eased herself under the duvets beside Clarke, who was absently playing with the thick duvet’s furs that reminded her of the fox pelt she left at home. “They’re not okay, are they?” she thought aloud. “That’s why Sonja never claims her seat during parties..”

“She does, but seldom.. besides, it’s her duty. She needs to show her face to the People once in a while.”

Clarke slowly snatched Lexa’s hand under the sheets folding them together as she further pushed analogies. “That‘s why Costia is Heda’s favorite daughter..” her lips twisted to a pout. “Because she is her child with the woman she loves..”

The grounder nodded with a smile, pleased and proud at the Sky girl’s perception. Then she turned to the side to face her clever Clarke, and said in addition, “That is why the Commander pushes the idea of Costia being my wife. She needs me to fulfil what she failed at.”

“But that’s absurd! The wife could still be anyone.”

“That’s why she‘s moving heaven and earth to get me to fall in love with Costia.” Lexa smirked knowingly, causing a twist in Clarke’s stomach as her free hand extended to push blonde curls behind Clarke’s ear. “She wants her to be my Esmé.”

At this, Lexa’s playful smirk widened into a smile. Then her hand trailed lower to cup the Sky girl’s enamoured face only to engage her in a chaste, yet heartfelt kiss, before pulling back to search a pair of dazzled blue eyes. “And you, _Niron_ , of all people, know that’s never going to happen.”

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should've been three parts but I haven't posted in a while so here's the first.

“Where are they?”

Lexa’s voice floated unstably, but audible over the clips and clops of different pairs of hooves. Leaves, both wet and dry, crumpled underneath the horses’ measured strides as the creatures gallop between thick rows of trees.

The cold night had moistened the forest. Everywhere was grey with thick treetops preventing enough moonlight from passing through, and the only illumination aiding the narrow path was a glimmering torch, vertically secured in Lexa’s own hand. Effortlessly navigating through uneven tracks, the dim light seemed more than enough for Lexa.

But for a Sky girl, it was as good as riding blindly through total darkness.

And she could not take it any longer.

“Lexa, wait—” Clarke huffed a plea then pressed her feet against the stirrups while carefully drawing the reins to stop her mare.

Having trotted further, Lexa had to wheel her own stallion around before she urged it to return to where Clarke has halted temporarily, her braided wavy hair bouncing as she approached.

“Uhm,” Clarke sighed. Her fingers fiddled with the leather material of the straps in her hands. She blinked to adjust to the gloominess as she met the grounder’s questioning stare. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard the loud crash near this spot, but seeing that nothing’s here.. it looks like I’m wrong.”

Clearly ignoring the Sky girl’s doubts, Lexa continued to dutifully scan the area with her seemingly nocturnal vision. “There should be a clearing somewhere,” she decided, moving the torch here and there. “You should’ve called me earlier. We could’ve waited for them together.”

Clarke shifted uncomfortably on her saddle, shoulders hunching forward as a fibre of frustration slithered within her.

Sure, she knew the landing would be anytime soon. But her hopes were high that her people would at least have the wits to land at daytime. In broad daylight where Clarke need not repair the pod’s decapitated cameras just so she could detect a signal from a ship floating at the sky.

The least she expected was for them to grace Earth that very night, while she was quietly by herself and enjoying a crispy wild boar for dinner. And especially not the night before Lexa’s cutting ceremony.

“I didn’t know what time they’re going to land, okay?” she reasoned at a committed Lexa, who remained restless as though she was reading the forest map in her head. “Last time I checked they were still fixing engine problems. Plus, I didn’t want to disturb your rest..” she confessed in a sweet tone. “if I wasn’t too scared to explore the forest alone, I wouldn’t have asked.”

Stopping her quest, Lexa glanced at her for a moment and replied almost automatically, “I won’t permit you to wander here alone anyway.”

Clarke pouted in the dark, internally chastising herself because she of course had not considered that last part. And she doesn’t wish to think about the arguments they’d engage in in case she really did navigate the forest alone. She had no plans of admitting that to Lexa though. So to prevent the dialogue to flow, she casually plucked the buzzing radio at her waist.

“Raven?”

 _Zzzzt_.

“Mom?”

No answer. Only random crackles.

Clarke clicked her tongue.

“I think the signal’s blocked.” She lowered the radio to her lap, disheartened. “Or maybe it wasn’t a ship that landed? Could it just be a loud forest sound?”

At this, Lexa stilled on her seat. Shifting her full attention to Clarke, she hovered the flame to the Sky girl’s confused face. “I heard the impact from the palace, Clarke. It sounded exactly like your crash.”

For a moment, Clarke considered her words. Somehow, the fact that Lexa knew of her landing had tipped her in a sudden stupor. She wan’t sure if it’s just her, or this dim orange flame amidst the still and cold forest really offers an oddly romantic atmosphere.

She could only stare while the flame brightened the space, enough for their faces to be visible— Lexa’s typical resolute look, and Clarke’s.. well, fascinated one.

She cleared her throat, because Lexa’s green eyes were studying her and her stomach was twisting a little. “You heard my pod crash?”

Blinking, Lexa seemed surprised that Clarke sought verification over something that should’ve been obvious.

“Yes,” she acknowledged nonetheless after moments of silence, a faint glow brightening her eyes. “I watched you fall.”

“Hmmm,” Clarke raised a brow in an attempt to use spite to compose herself. “You never told me.”

“You never asked.”

Another silly mockery would've rolled from Clarke's tongue if her mind hadn’t drifted away. She only managed a smile and let silence take over. Too stunned to furnish a retort when the mild wind was blowing Lexa’s curls, littering her neck with brown strands just over the collar of her black shirt. Clarke ached to clean them with the tip of her fingers. She felt thirsty for her. And the feeling worsened when her gaze trailed up the chiseled edges of Lexa's face. Clarke wasn’t even looking at Lexa directly, just studying the woman’s cheekbones and how its cuts were accented beautifully by flickers of the orange flame.

“Clarke?” called the grounder. “Shall we explore further?”

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” mumbled Clarke out of nowhere, thankful that the night helped hide the blush at her cheeks.

Waves of flame licked the air in chaos as the torch almost slipped from Lexa’s grasp. It was momentary but impossible to miss even though she caught the handle in a snap as though nothing happened. She struggled to school her features into a blank mask like her typical reaction to everything, but a smirk slipped at the side of her face, and a streak of mirth sliced her eyes. “You never told me.”

Right then, Clarke’s head bore nothing but the thought of begging Lexa to come climb her horse and kiss her already. But just as she was about to plead like a whore, rays of light suddenly blared from a distance, so bright they may just have illuminated the vastness of the forest.

Big green eyes widened in awareness, the very location that had in an instant lost darkness sucked her head.

Lexa nodded to the route they’d tread to reach it. “Let’s go.”

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Her mare planted its front feet before wreckages of fallen trunks and loose twigs.

Everything was in disarray. A wide mess surrounding one enormous, towering ship which Clarke studied in awe. Its shape was similar to that of a rhombus, white in color and larger than hers, with more beacons, signal antennas, and whatever else she had no idea of.

Mounted beside her, Lexa was surveying every bit of the vessel too. The frantic screech of gears turning in that curious mind of hers almost audible.

Both knew they’re being watched from the inside. Two front cameras have already been twirled to their direction. And Clarke’s focus had been directed on anything that would move next. Her senses most sensitive to the ammunition row at the midsection of the ship, ready to yell ‘retreat’ at the slightest twitch of their holes.

“Do you think it’s them?” Lexa’s low voice snapped her out of concentration.

“Uhm,” Clarke’s mouth fell open only to be snapped shut immediately when her eyes darted to her hip, where the wireless radio began emitting statics.

She glanced at Lexa. The woman’s lips were pressed in a hard line, eyes on the radio, waiting for anything.

Then, a clear sound echoed from the speakers.

“So what you ride horses now?” said the voice. Clarke’s immediate reaction was a snort, because that voice and that sort of mockery undoubtedly belonged to Raven Reyes.

She plucked the radio from her hip and raised it to Lexa. “It’s definitely them.”

And there went the little movement she had been anticipating— it wasn’t from ammunition slots nor anything that posed potential danger. It came as a nearly imperceptible jerk at the ship’s main door as it away from its top lock.

Noticing this, Lexa swung off her horse. She disappeared somewhere to secure the torch whose flames were now useless under the ship’s blazing spotlights. Then she returned to where Clarke’s mare stood, and held out a hand for the Sky girl to take. “Com on, let’s get you down.”

“That on the radio was Raven!” announced Clarke happily, unable to contain her giggles while Lexa only nodded comprehendingly. “She’s the engineer I told you about!”

By then, the door had been lowered halfway. For a moment, both froze in place as the watched it hauled down continuously until a person’s head was beginning to come into view.

 _They’re really here_ , Clarke thought. It was like a dream she found trouble believing.

At last, she could share the Ground with the people she knew well. Her own people. Well, two of them to be precise, as permitted by the Commander. But still, there was only bliss and gratitude in her heart. She would no longer spend nights outside her pod, wishing for someone to sit with or share stories with over poor grilled rabbits.

She hoped for nights when Lexa would sit with them too. But that was such a reach, considering how successfully she and the Heir piqued the Heda’s rage into an alarming level.

_Not now. But maybe someday._

Blinking her musings away, Clarke reached for Lexa’s hand, laced it between the woman’s long fingers then lead the Heir of Polis through dirty beds of woods and leaves.

“Careful not to trip,” Lexa had to point out consistently, because Clarke had gone overly excited more than once.

Their carried them nearer as the ship’s door finally touched the ground, turning into a convenient ramp. And Clarke realised only then that it wasn’t Raven who came out to meet them. The woman standing at the summit of the ramp was slim. She had no jacket, just a shirt with buttons opened at the chest. Her hair was worn down in waves to frame her familiar gentle face.

“Mom!” yelled Clarke, her feet springing faster towards the ship. Her silly giggles had turned into heartfelt grins, coupled with tears brimming at her eyes. Her breaths were shallow, and her chest was so full, she failed to notice that Lexa had let her hand go.

Abby Griffin’s boots covered the ramp with her own long strides. And as her feet stepped on the Ground for the first time ever, her daughter’s body was spontaneously thrown in her arms.

“Mom!” Clarke broke into sobs. She ran her fingers along the tough curves of her mother’s muscles and took her scent like it was all the air she needed. “Mom, I missed you so much,” she swiped at the tears at her cheeks. “I’m sorry.. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were landing tonight. I—.”

Abby shushed her, raking comforting fingers through her daughter’s blonde hair. “Raven fixed the engine in less time than expected.” She kissed Clarke’s temple. “But what matters is we’re here now honey.”

Clarke only clung to her mom tighter. For a long while, she nestled in her arms, letting Abby pat her back as she cried. Both spoke no words, only breaths and sighs of relief while their emotions slowly subside.

When her eyes had dried and her mom had settled down too, Clarke pulled herself away. And as she brushed the tousled blonde strands that fell on her forehead, she slowly grew conscious of the stares passing from her mother’s suddenly pensive eyes to the space behind her.

Lexa.

Oh, God. How could it have slipped Clarke’s memory that the very first encounter between these two women was all shades of unpleasant. To say the least.

Awkwardly, she cleared her throat.

“Mom.. uhh..” she swiveled backwards to where Lexa stood with hands clasped to her back. Her stance was erect, royal like her status in Polis, but her usual proud head was slightly inclined lower.

It startled Clarke to find Lexa this way. The first time the Heir of Polis ever donned such a face. A rather humble veil to wear before one Abby Griffin, a stranger, and one who had just set foot into the island Lexa herself practically owned.

Perhaps this first personal meeting would turn out well after all.

“Uhm,” Clarke tried again, this time more loosely. She gestured towards Lexa, who still appeared meek yet composed, as always. “Mom,” she called, and said with a hint of pride, “This is Lexa.”

Biting her cheek, she considered offering a more elaborate introduction. Lexa is so much more than a name. But Clarke’s stupid mind seemed to have found the perfect opportunity to fail her. No matter how deep she dug, she can’t find the most ideal, most appropriate words to describe such an incredible woman.

It didn’t help that whatever relationship she’d developed with Lexa hadn’t exactly been defined. A ‘romantic affair,’ the Heda called it. Of all people, it had been the maleficent Commander who fixed a label on them. And worse, Clarke thinks it was a fitting phrase. She didn’t once dispute this and it was a something Lexa, too, had not denied.

The thought made Clarke clearly recall that day at the throne room, with the people of Polis bearing witness, and decided to borrow the same words Lexa used about her.

“She is..” Clarke checked on Lexa whose agog eyes studied her. Then she turned back to Abby. “She’s the woman I’m involved with.”

Her lips slowly pulled to a smile. Clarke felt lighter, like a load was hoisted off her chest after exhaling the truth. After admitting to the only family she has that she actually belongs to someone.

That she was Lexa’s.

It’s messy. This civilization wall has drawn them divided to even agree on a formal tie. But at that point, Clarke was sure she belonged to Lexa. And Lexa is hers alone.

To date at least. Before duty compels her to mate with hundred other women. What happens then? Clarke deliberately refused to ponder on.

“I remember her, honey,” said Abby, sharply cutting her thoughts. “At the radio call. We‘ve exchanged words when you broke _the news_.” She stared across. A stare full of scrutiny that isn’t new to Clarke. Since her father was floated by the Council, Abby had turned into this overprotective monster who unleashes hell to everyone Clarke dates. And now that Clarke literally got pregnant, young and unplanned, she doesn’t expect to escape the taste of some spicy reprimands.

Lexa stepped forward and it troubled Clarke so much she almost drove her body at the space between her and Abby. Under the peaceful night, the subtle tension was beginning to surface around that small area. But her worry turned out nonsensical when Lexa held out a hand with utmost courtesy. “Welcome to Polis,” she greeted Abby in an entirely diplomatic approach.

Clarke’s attention shifted to her mother, who then returned a polite nod plus a firm grip at Lexa’s hand. “Thank you for allowing us here.” She managed a courteous smile that unveiled tiny wrinkles at the edges of her mouth. “And thank you for looking after Clarke this whole time.”

Clarke gawked, head now darting to Lexa, who only nodded once, gorgeous face proud yet modest. Then a familiar hand was gently crawling at the small of her back.

“I do care a lot about your daughter,” confessed Lexa before Clarke could even get a grip of all that’s happening. “I don’t see a day when I’ll ever cease to.”

Clarke’s cheeks were burning, and this time it will take more than darkness to hide it.

It was bold of Lexa to say such, when everyone, especially Lexa herself, knows how uncertain tomorrow is. But how could Clarke even complain? She was happy. She was melting. And all she could do was snake her hand behind to collect Lexa’s. She pulled it carefully, looping the woman’s arm around her body until their fingers twined at her hip.

Abby only watched, face unreadable, only sporting a smirk while she scanned the nonexistent distance between her daughter and this valiant grounder she just met. “I will support whatever makes Clarke happy,” she said as plain as the sky above. “I won’t get in the way _as long as_ it makes her happy.”

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perdón. Some parts are taking longer to write, so here’s another short one. A huge thank you to those who are still here despite the hurdles in this story. I say, let's have faith in Clexa.

 

The sun has risen high, its rays warm though gentle as they kissed Clarke’s half-tied blonde hair. It was overall a beautiful morning. The kind where everyone would stay out for hours, run by the shore and litter at the markets.

Except, that wasn’t the case that day. The long stretch of the beach was deserted, no children loitered by the grass, and the typical busy markets were nearly empty.

Most grounders locked themselves indoors, it seems. And the few who decided to leave their homes were only headed to one place— the Square. From far a distance, just the flock of people surrounding it was visible to Clarke. She couldn’t see past them even if she stretched her neck like a giraffe.

“I miss the Ark,” a woman's voice mumbled, jolting Clarke’s shoulders to attention as she almost forgot her friend Raven was right behind her. “I’m not sure if I’ll like it here.” 

This also explains why her mare proceeds so gingerly. Raven Reyes hadn’t ridden on horseback before. Her fingers, despite tightly latched on either side of Clarke, barely offered a cure to her fear of falling.

“It’s your first day." Clarke looked over her shoulder. "Give it time and you’ll love the Ground.”

Her friend shrugged. “I‘m not sure, Griffin. I loved to observe the blackness you know.” Raven pouts as Clarke repositions her head forward to eye the dirt road. “And sorry to say but these grounders don’t seem half as accommodating as Arkers! Not a single soul looked at me with kind eyes. I wonder how you even survived here alone.”

“I rarely felt alone,” countered Clarke without missing a beat.

“Oh, right. Pardon me.” Raven puffed a teasing scoff. “How do you go from being single as fuck when we sent you here, to having a little human growing inside of you. Of course you were never alone!”

“Shut up.”

It had taken the mechanic more time than expected to stop her giggles. “I didn’t go out last night. But I was behind the monitors, watching you all like a movie,” she informed Clarke, pausing halfway as if to give her speech a dramatic effect. “I saw _her_.”

Clarke’s breath caught at this as she finds herself eager to learn what someone close to her thinks of Lexa. “Verdict?”

“Hot!” Raven judged with much enthusiasm that caused a small proud smirk in Clarke. “Really hot! You always get the hot ones anyway, but this is a new goddamn level if you ask me.."

Clarke was chewing on her lip, her heart seem to burst, feeling so full while listening to the compliments thrown at the woman she claims to be involved with.

"How she talks.."

"The way she moves..”

Leaning to the side, Raven creeped forward to eye Clarke. “I still can’t believe she has a dick though.”

An abrupt snort flowed off Clarke’s nose. She wasn’t surprised though. It would be naïve not to anticipate this subject to eventually spring out of nowhere. But no matter, she decided that a dismissive snort is response enough.

But Raven seems headstrong in wanting to know more. “What‘s it like?” she pried. “Any difference from a man’s?”

 _It’s gorgeous_ , thought Clarke. _Like every single part of her_.

Her lips twitched to a smirk as clear flashes of Lexa’s groin, and the way it propels her to insane pleasure danced around her mind. But she will, of course, keep things to herself. Raven’s interest bore no ill intentions, she knew, but Clarke would not risk slipping a single comment, lest this horse ride will be worse than an ambush interview.

“Shut up, Raven," she simply dismissed again.

“I’m curious??” The mechanic pressed on as two grounders on foot scurried noisily past them.

Clarke remained mum for a long while, forcing her friend finally take the hint. “Fine that’s private,” she acquiesced. “So I’m letting it go.”

“Technically, it’s not mine to tell,” explained Clarke, and received a half-hearted “Mmmkay. Whatever you say, Griff.” back.

They were approaching the Square now, passing by a long row of trees where several horses were already parked. It was odd to find this many elegant mounts in this part of the city. They were finely bred. Each belonging to the twelve Ambassadors of the Clans, summoned to the city to help impose punishment on their future Commander.

Raven climbed off the mare first, making Clarke proud her friend managed without screeching like a child.

“That’s her!” The mechanic yelled, nodding at the stage without a speck of doubt as she seems to spot Lexa. “At the rightmost, the one with thick hair.”

“Yeah,” affirmed Clarke, barely checking where Raven’s chin was pointed, and instead just patted her lovely mare on the head before swinging her body down, eyes still away from the stage.

She need not confirm anything. She already saw.

 

/ / /

 

The People turned at their approached. Few paid Raven a peek because most eyes bore on Clarke. ‘The Sky girl,’ they hushed among themselves as varied pairs of stares studied her. Some were glares of resentment, many of disbelief, and a handful, of admiration.

But even while they view Clarke in a myriad of judgments, the grounders adjusted spontaneously, moving their bodies one by one until they’ve cleared a visible path for them. Clarke sneaked wary glances from left to right, reluctant, but in the end decided to slice through the track they’ve lain, with Raven following close behind.

Ahead, the wide, deserted center of the Square loomed. It was free of people, but not completely empty. At its middle stood a wooden pole, like a truncated pillar that Clarke realised had been present all this time. It was there that morning she discovered that Lexa and the Heda aren't the same person.

“They’re gonna chain her there, aren’t they?” Raven guessed, a grimace crossing her disgusted face.

Clarke agreed with a small nod. “They won’t use a chain. But yeah.”

She shifted her focus elsewhere— at the stage, to be exact, where the royals sat. Below it, claiming their seats on a makeshift platform, were the Ambassadors of the Twelve Clans, along with eight other selected grounders Clarke had no idea who.

She gave the whole scene a clean sweep, before letting her gaze finally land on the eyes that watched her.

Lexa was composed, her chestnut braids laced with golden strings like the radiant gold cape fastened at her shoulder. Her stare was serious beneath that signature warpaint Clarke had seen her wear only for the second time. Yet, if you scratch the surface, her gaze at Clarke conveys deep longing. And Clarke tried to return the most sincere stare that would say ‘Hey, I’m here. I'm here for you.’

To Lexa’s left was Sonja, whom Clarke was happy to see. Beside her was the Commander, lounging tall on the largest throne, and as usual was shooting deadly glares at Clarke. 

But this blatant repulsion from the Heda wasn’t the reason of Clarke’s biggest displeasure. The fourth throne, oddly placed at the leftmost spot in the stage was. Perched on it, radiating a nauseating amount of vanity, was Costia. Costia. Atop an opulent seat, at the stage, like she belonged to the family.

Worse is that she was dressed in a flowing yellow silk, the very shade of Lexa’s. The Heir’s colors.

Clarke have cringed twice since she caught a glimpse of this. She doesn’t know how much hand the Heda dipped on this charade, but Clarke nonetheless hates that she has no yellow dress of any sort. She only had dull hues of black and blue like the jacket she wore that day, and the duller grey shirt beneath it.

“ _Zo stoda_.” (We begin), pronounced the Heda suddenly, silencing even the wind with her flat but powerful voice.

Hearing the command, a pair of guards marched towards the stage, but Lexa immediately raised a hand to stop them. Then she got to her feet and descended down the stage in her usual regal grace.

Clarke drew a deep breath into her lungs to keep her nerves steady. Lexa and her have spent nights debating about this cutting ceremony, with Clarke pleading to suffer half the cuts, which were in the first place meant for her. She’d raised it far more times than she could count, but was always served with a firm and final ‘No.’ And Clarke would relent, because she hated arguing with Lexa when they were supposed to spend the nights cuddling.

Her insistence thankfully ended days ago, when Polis woke up to the news that Heda decided to split the first punishment into two separate ceremonies. Weeks apart to allow the wounds to heal, the People said, lauding their considerate Commander. A _considerate_ Commander. Huh. This obviously is the very picture the Heda wished to paint.

But Clarke wasn’t born yesterday.

Twenty was the maximum number of cuts imposed unless the punishment was death. Had the Commander enforced double that on Lexa, on the same day, the Heir of Polis will bleed to death like a butchered meat right before the People’s eyes.

And it isn’t as though Lexa’s blood could be replenished in a snap of a finger. Her blood is black. A nightblood, it’s called. And the only other grounder who possess this quality is the Commander herself.

Clarke’s musings snapped the moment Lexa reached the ground. All eyes watched her, except perhaps Clarke who in turn watched the People. Costia had the stickiest stare like she was devouring Lexa in her mind. And her proud chin was raised as though she’d already fucked her.

_Really, this bitch can go float herself._

Clarke gritted her teeth, rolled her eyes and cursed inwardly as the guards had success escorting Lexa to the center.

It was her boots they discarded first. Lexa was cool and compliant. But when they were about to secure her wrists in a loop of strings, she seemed to mutter instructions to the guard’s ears.

They released her. And Clarke had no idea what the hell was going on until Lexa sauntered away, and slowly advanced to where she stood frozen beside Raven.

“Clarke,” she called, calmly, sweetly, inches away from the blonde’s beautiful baffled face. Then, mechanically, she unclasped the gold cape from her shoulder, like she did that night Clarke told her they were pregnant. “Will you hold this for me?”

Gasps erupted from the crowd, the Ambassadors exchanged low chats, while Costia looked about to stand from her pretty throne.

But Lexa was unfazed by all the futile buzz. Smirking, she proceeded to surrender the symbol of her Grounder royalty to a Sky girl, out in the open.

Once, Lexa had talked Clarke against holding this very cape for no apparent reason. And now it appears that those precautions had vanished. She cared less on how the monarchs above and below the stage would take this behavior.

Or perhaps she did care? Perhaps wanted them to see. In a poetic sense, Lexa had practically announced the exact worth of Clarke in her life.

Clarke managed to nod amidst a head-spinning stupor. They shared a long gaze swirling with so much unsaid words, before Clarke grinned and decided to just crack a pun. “I guess we just earned some additional twenty cuts. Each.”

Lexa smirked. “Stay here. Don’t do anything foolish until this is all over.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Do me a favor— please don't die out there."

“Hmmm. Do me a favor and take off my shirt.”

“What?” yelped Clarke, her heart racing suddenly. Raven’s head has been turned to them at this point. “What happened to _not_ doing anything foolish?”

“Just take my shirt off, Clarke.” Lexa tried again, this time with a hefty stress that made Clarke see reason.

Once Lexa goes back to that pillar, they will rip her off of it anyway. Better Clarke than them.

With Raven gaping, Clarke’s arms moved until her fingers found the cotton hem of the Lexa’s shirt. She noticed a thick black cloth wrapped around the woman’s breasts, something Lexa doesn’t usually wear but was definitely a necessity in such cutting ceremony.

The tension around built incredulously higher with Clarke touching their Heir like this. A grumpy Costia was on her feet and the Heda was about to do the same had Sonja not pulled her back down.

Their eyes locked again, longer than needed, green and blue, only breaking when Clarke carefully lifted the shirt, until the fabric slipped off to leave Lexa half naked before the People’s eyes.

It left the space burst in another chorus of awes as they behold the marvel that was Lexa's body. Those at the rear tiptoed, those in front gawked, Costia’s stare was hungrier than ever. Even Raven was wincing with envy, grumbling a bitter but friendly ‘Damn it, Griffin,' where Clarke almost replied 'Tell me about it.'

“ _Tai Em!_ ” (Tie her!), the Commander lividly growled, earning prompt obedience from the guards whom Lexa once again stopped with a palm.

It had always amazed Clarke how the People somehow listen to Lexa despite her being just the second in command.

But the Heda's interference finally made the Heir step away from Clarke. She moved slowly and half-heartedly that it somehow hurt. Soon, they were yards apart and Lexa strode faster to where the warriors await to secure her.

The crowd’s murmurs settled down. Raven, on the other hand, had something to say.

“To be honest, I expected a public sex,” she teased.

Clarke folded Lexa’s shirt on top of the gold cape already hanging on her arm. She cleared her throat. “I was ready.”

 

/ / /

 

Indra _kom Trikru_ , a slender warrior with short hair, knelt before Lexa. Both the Heir's wrists were tied up above her head, her body pinned to the pillar like an ordinary criminal.

Indra’s head was bent so low it nearly kissed the soil while she blew a string of apologies, and it was only when Lexa whispered a brief assurance that Indra finally rose and unsheathed the dagger clipped at her waist. 

  
Trembling, the Woods Clan representative raised the blade up, almost touching the strings that secured Lexa’s wrists. For a moment Clarke thought she’d cut Lexa free, but what Indra only did was graze the blade, against the tip of her future Commander’s forearm.

The cut was shallow, Clarke could tell even as she cringed at thin streak of black blood flowing from the new gap at Lexa's skin. Her fists had curled into tight balls, an acrid taste coating her tongue as she loathes everything about this ferocity.

“ _Won!_ ” (One). The guard to Lexa’s left counted on top of her lungs, informing everyone.

Indra then wiped the bloody knife against her garment, sheathed it back in place and returned to her seat.

  
The Boat Clan was next. Their Ambassador, Clarke recognised from that meeting at the beach, also took a knee to Lexa’s bare feet. She spent less time apologizing though, and gave Lexa another thin cut at the same spot Indra did, on the opposite forearm.

“ _Tu!_ ” (Two).

The counts went on. As did the drops of blood down Lexa’s body. As did Clarke’s tears, dribbling to her face since the fourth count.

By the eleventh, when Lexa’s arms were battered with indistinguishable slashes, and the Azgedan Ambassador tore her pants to slice her leg, Clarke was weeping like hell. She sniffed her own moist breath. Even then, she found it hard to breathe, like every cut was a blow to her heart too. It was actually. It hurts more because she knew she caused this. Her stupid cunt and her stubbornness nailed Lexa to that pillar, and here she was, standing there, unable to do anything but cry.

“ _Naitin!_ ” (Nineteen). The warrior once again proclaimed from a distance.

At this, a grounder rose from the platform. The last of eight who were called to complete twenty heads that must administer the punishment. She appears to be a bashful woman, middle-aged and slim. Her red head hanging before her as she leisurely walked down the platform.

“ _Hod op!_ ” (Stop), exclaimed the Commander, voice loud even as she sat. “Return to your seat!”

Timidly, the woman obeyed.

“The last cut must be performed by the Sky girl,” the Heda suddenly declared, in a tone that was mocking yet loaded with satisfaction.

This new order seemed to surprise everyone in that Square.

Most stunned was Clarke, of course, that she almost let Lexa’s clothes slip from her grasp. _If she’s joking, it’s not funny_ , she thought, only to realise that being funny is the least the Heda would intend.

The Square was envelopes by silence. Even nearby birds refused to chirp as the people await Clarke to move.

“Uh, Clarke,” called Raven softly. “I’m a Sky girl too, but I’m pretty sure this mad Commander refers to you.”

Clarke still could not bring herself to move.

“Griffin, I think you really need to,” urged the mechanic for the second time, concerned, as the strain in the atmosphere worsened. All eyes at them, Lexa’s included.

"Here," Raven rummaged into her red jacket to produce a small pocket knife that Arkers usually carry. “Use this.”

Her friend's gesture added warrant to what Clarke was expected to do. They aren’t getting out of here without her giving that last cut to Lexa. And she must do it soon because Lexa is losing blood by the second.

Sighing, Clarke seized the blade, stashed it in her pants and let her unstable strides bring her forward.

Lexa watched as Clarke’s strides grew longer. The Sky girl's knees weakened with every step until she stumbled and had fallen right at Lexa’s filthy feet.

Her first instinct was to treat the wounds immediately, an impossible task to pull of given the situation. Still, with shaking hands, Clarke put her limited resources to use. With Lexa's black shirt, she wrapped the bleeding thigh, where most blood gushed out. Clarke was happy to find that the thick width of the cloth can manage to cover two slash wounds at once. Lexa groaned painfully when Clarke tied the ends, but the Sky girl went on doing the same to the other leg, this time with her own Arker jacket.

It wasn’t enough. Clarke hadn’t sealed all wounds but she at least dealt with the worst of them.

“Hey,” Clarke stood, hand finding her lover’s pale jaw while Lexa looked at her from under her brown lashes. “How’s your arm?”

“Hurts.”

“It’ll be over soon,” Clarke promised, now cautiously spreading the gold cloak to Lexa’s back in an attempt to cover the woman's exposed torso. It was a challenge given the ropes looped around the pillar, and Lexa’s arms outstretched upwards. But Clarke was determined, and went on spreading the cloak behind Lexa like a superhero cape.

“If the Sky girl does not perform the twentieth cut now, arrest her!” The Heda roared, she was on her feet now, walking to the edge of the stage.

Clarke’s nose flared hearing this. She hates how powerless they were. She hates that even with terrible intentions, the Commander always wins.

“Don’t move,” she told Lexa. One hand drew the knife out from her pocket and the other slid down the waistband of Lexa's pants. She had no underwear as usual, making Clarke shake her head. She went on yanking Lexa’s pants down, causing another rustle of astonishment from the onlookers even while the waistband had only been pushed just below Lexa’s tan hipbone.

Lexa tensed, her gorgeous abs contracting. She eyed Clarke quizzically, and she was absolutely caught off guard when Clarke leaned forward and crashed their lips together without warning.

Regardless, she welcomed Clarke, pulling the Sky girl’s mouth in as a glint of amusement brightened her exhausted green eyes.  
  
Snarls thundered around. Ridicules tossed by and in different voices. Well, Clarke hadn't expected less; what surprised her was the handful of grounders who actually cheered. A soft ‘yeah!’ and some Trigedasleng praises managed to make their way to her ears. She heard applause too. It was faint, perhaps just three people where she was sure Raven was one, but at least there was that.

 _The Commander always wins_ , she thought. _Might as well give her a bitter taste of victory._

In the midst of the ruckus of side remarks, Clarke took the chance to graze the sharp blade against the side of Lexa’s hip. She gave the woman's skin the smallest, most superficial cut, just enough to draw the blood that proves she accomplished the task.

As though desperate for air, Lexa sucked Clarke in. It must be the pain, Clarke supposed. The pain throughout her body must have kicked in, and this is how she coped with it. To push deeper into Clarke and forget it all, to crash their mouths in a hungry pace until their lips swell and both their chins were wet.

Clarke forgot herself too, mirroring Lexa’s burning intensity like they were alone within closed doors.

Until a familiar furious voice blared from the stage, “That foreigner is _violating_ our _Hainof_!”

Costia.

At this, Clarke pulled back hastily, chest rising and falling as she pants. Eyeing Lexa from under her lashes, she was almost apologetic with Costia's words getting into her head. Violating? She phrased it as though Clarke was molesting Lexa publicly.

Blinking, Clarke fumbled at her lover’s still skewed waistband and tugged it up in place. She flattened it firmly over the wound she just sliced. This was the very reason Clarke decided to place the cut there in the first place— the spot on the hip guarantees a seal. The kiss though. Well, that was for distraction. To somehow trick Lexa away from the throb in her limbs.

Whatever the objective, Costia seems to turn the scene into her own twisted ideals. And how bold was she to influence the People into thinking the same.

“ _Tweni!_ ” (Twenty), came the last count. Poor warrior tearing her throat apart, just to make her voice heard over layers of howls following Costia’s xenophobic remark.

“This is not our way!”

“The Sky girl is not The Wife yet!”

“ _She is violating our Hainof!_ ”

“Ignore them," huffed Lexa, her tired eyes closing intermittently, whilst she attempted to search Clarke's pained stare. "They don’t get to dictate who I choose, you know that,” she breathed, sweet and full of assurance even in a breaking, frail voice. “I choose you, Clarke. If I wasn’t too weak, I’ll scream that to the world.”

A cluster of tears brimmed at the Sky girl's eyes. She was overwhelmed. A pleasant web of warmth was crawling in her heart, filling it with happiness that her whole body feels like it's about to combust.

It wasn’t easy being involved with Lexa in this world. It fucking isn’t. If anything, it was the most difficult situation she ever has to face. But how could Clarke not be shaken when Lexa validates their undefined relationship like this? When she puts Clarke on a pedestal every chance she gets? When Lexa, who could easily lie with any woman, seemed blinded by everyone else's charm, because Clarke alone caught her gorgeous emerald eyes?

Maybe one of these days, Clarke would find the courage to speak to Lexa about this whole mess of a situation, and figure out how they must sail within its labyrinth. 

In the background, the People carried on with the onslaught of ill-placed remarks. This time though, the snarls only landed on Clarke's deaf ears, too lost in the clouds to pay them any mind. 

Flashing a smile at Lexa, she pressed a brief, chaste kiss onto the woman's full lips, "You don't need to scream anything, Lexa," she whispered, reaching high up to cut the ropes that would finally set her free. "You already have."

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Three weeks passed in a long sequence of boring days.

Clarke spent it mostly away from her pod. She’d ride to the other ship, every morning, as demanded by her mom, for _prenatal_ check-ups. She’d stay there, chatting with Raven or reading infant books her mother shoves to her nose, until the orange curtain of sunset drops across the sky.

Only the _Fisas_ were allowed to care for their Heir’s cuts. Which means Clarke and Abby spent one full week waiting to see Lexa for themselves and apply treatment the Arker way.

Abby was satisfied with the pace the wounds were healing. And Clarke was relieved to learn that the blood Lexa lost will be replenished naturally in time. Still, Abby insisted that Lexa must visit for monitoring until she fully recovers.

“I’m fascinated by your girlfriend’s anatomy,” Abby was saying, dragging Clarke’s attention to the present. The sound of ‘girlfriend’ blew her brain to pieces.

Once, Lexa called Clarke ‘ _Niron_ ,’ the Trigedasleng term for ‘loved one.’ Perhaps that meant something near girlfriend in grounder culture? Clarke stifled the laugh bubbling within her, finding it a humor to wish, for a change, that her mother’s words were right. 

“What about it?” Clarke finally asked as her mom checked her pulse.

It was one of those mornings when she rests on the examination bed, her feet dangling comfortably as her mother surveys her vital signs.

Needless to say, Abby Griffin has embraced this grandchild idea with the amount of glee Clarke hadn’t anticipated. She’d chastised her daughter only once— that first day in this series of check ups while Clarke stepped onto a weighing scale. She pointed out how relatively young Clarke was to conceive and raise a kid. One who would grow in a grotesque society, and possibly with only one parent since Lexa, as Abby sees it, will be a property of her People come the ascension.

But her mother was positive in the grand scheme of things. For years, it had only been her and Clarke, and now she was excited to welcome a little Griffin to their small family. She brushes Clarke’s belly so often like it wasn’t still a growing bump, and had meticulously prepared one room for Clarke’s delivery as though her daughter was giving birth in the next two days.

“I’m guessing there’s correlation between her blood and her ability to reproduce," said Abby, her thin lips pressing together. 

Without much thought, Clarke agreed.

This subject had graced one of her dialogues with Lexa. Specifically, that night they laid naked in Clarke's bed. In most movies she'd seen, puffing cigarettes seems to be a thing after sex; but to her and Lexa, discussing ideals and tales stories was the practice. It was a routine Clarke had loved and gotten used to. How lovely was it to listen to Lexa's stories while she runs her fingers on the woman's smooth, tan skin. 

“It dates back to the war,” Clarke shared. “While pregnant a woman took the antidote, which did not only turn her child’s blood black, it also gave her daughter male parts.”

Abby ‘s eyes rolled to the edges, then nodded comprehendingly as she pressed the stethoscope lightly to her daughter’s chest. “Since then, that woman's lineage was their sole source of seed..” she concluded.

“Actually mom, no,” corrected Clarke, dutifully recalling the details. “Lexa says there were others.”

“Others?” The doctor cocked her head to the side. “I thought she’s the only one with that organ?”

“This generation, yes.” Clarke considered her thoughts for a moment. “But before.. there were others with male parts. Not many, less than five in their generations as I remember.” She twisted sideways to let Abby hear the back portion of her lungs. “But they were red bloods. And red bloods’ lineage isn’t stable.”

“Unstable how?”

“Their seed isn’t as strong. They take several attempts to form a child. There was one who never got any woman pregnant and her line ended with her.”

“Interesting.” Abby was thoughtful, her eyes twitching, with the mind behind it obviously branching to various hypotheses.

Then her gaze, inquisitive and curious, narrowed on Clarke. “Did Lexa manage it in the first try, honey?”

Utterly bewildered, Clarke blinked several times, her lips parting. She did not ever expect her mother to ask something as private as this.

The answer was as clear as day, of course. Lexa had thrown orgasms to die in the open air, before that one time she jetted them inside Clarke. Once. And Clarke was with child the next day.

Still, that story belongs only to her and Lexa. It wasn’t a data to be written as ‘fact’ on someone’s research journal.

Clarke swallowed thickly and wore a straight face. “I’m not answering that question mom,” she politely dismissed and carefully hopped off the bed.

  

 

* * *

 

 

The wind blew softly that late afternoon, caressing her rosy face as her mare strolled by the sand.

Clarke wore dresses lately. Her pants were getting uncomfortable around the hip, with Lexa’s baby growing inside her. Riding in this outfit was a challenge, she realized, and the insides of her thighs had grown numb by the time she reached the far end of the shore where Lexa said she was bathing.

It was uncharacteristic of the Heir to soak at this hour, much less, do this everyday as was the case the past five days. However, the _Fisas_ believe saltwater would help mend her injuries. Thus, she complied.

The area, though peaceful, wasn’t the most private section of the beach. It was somehow isolated though, given its considerable distance from the markets. And the handful of people who visits were scattered across its long stretch, that they may not even notice the Heir’s presence in the vicinity.

Lexa had just stepped into a dry garment when Clarke arrived. A khaki knee-length dress, straight cut like an Indian _kurta_ , her thick hair dripping wet on its linen fabric.

“Don’t they hurt?” Clarke worried about the wounds, looking down on Lexa from up her white horse.  
   
“Not really.” Lexa drew the sleeves up to reveal half-cured cuts all over her arms. After all this time, the sight of how battered Lexa’s skin had become still brings tears to Clarke’s eyes.

 _Fuck every shard of this grounder ferocity_ , she thought as she blinked the moist away with the wind.

“They’re getting better by the day,” said Lexa, giving the sleeves a moderate shake before helping Clarke off the mare.  
   
“We’re staying here?”  
   
“Just ‘til sunset.” Lexa pressed a peck on the Sky girl’s cheek. “Is that okay?”  
   
Clarke hummed her consent, mouth pulling to a grin. “Come, I’ll show you something.” She towed Lexa by the hand and glided gracefully through the sand until she found a spot she thinks was nice to linger at for a while.  
   
Lexa lowered herself to where Clarke had halted, bringing her knees up and apart, in which space Clarke unabashedly placed herself. As her bottom hit the sand, the Sky girl swiveled sideways to recline against Lexa’s inner leg like it was the most cozy back rest there was. Lexa didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she placed her elbows on each knee and clasped her hands front as if to wrap Clarke within the cage of her arms.

Lexa smelled of sea and forest, a fragrant mix that was a treat to Clarke's nose. “Maybe we can stay here ‘til after sunset,” she thought aloud.  
   
Smirking from above, Lexa leaned down to kiss Clarke’s blonde head. “You said you’ll show me something.”  
   
“Oh, right.” Clarke jerked away. Slightly. Hating to create this three-centimetre space between them, but this is important. It’s actually the most important thing in her life right now.  
   
She reached deep in the side pocket of her indigo dress.  
   
Puzzled at the thing in Clarke’s hands, Lexa pouted. “What is it?”  
   
“It’s a stethoscope,” explained Clarke eagerly as clueless green eyes watched her uncoil the tangled tubes. “Here,” Clarke brushed the grounder’s thick brown curls aside and carefully slid each eartip onto Lexa to fit them in place.  
   
The unfamiliar foreign objects at her ears only made Lexa’s curiosity escalate. “Clarke what are these?”  
   
“Sssshhh…” the Sky girl smiled before gingerly pressing the round end of the instrument over the bump at her belly. “Listen..”  
   
Lexa’s head tilted to one side, mystified, her brows wrinkling.  
   
“The sound is difficult to catch over waves and wind,” muttered the Sky girl. “But listen carefully. You’ll hear it.”  
   
Gazing at Clarke from under her lashes, the grounder’s lips pressed in a think line. She tried again, harder this time as she closed her eyes as if to concentrate.

Clarke waited.

Lexa’s eyes opened, giving a blurry look like she still got nothing. Her gaze narrowed at an encouraging Clarke before it closed slowly again.

Another long, quiet moment passed.

A couple of tight crinkles in the nose, one more adorable pout. But it was the extraordinary color of life in Lexa’s face that told Clarke she heard it.

Two wide green eyes opened again, bright and excited. They bore too much ecstasy that may have made Clarke tear up again. “It’s a heartbeat! It’s our child’s heartbeat!” exclaimed Lexa, her smile so wide it displayed her full front teeth.

“Yes it is.” Clarke nods happily, her arm extending to cup Lexa’s face, who once again bowed to listen attentively.

“She’s really in here,” marveled Lexa like she still couldn’t believe it. Watery green eyes searching Clarke’s.

“Of course she is.” The soft giggle that left Clarke was cut short when Lexa pulled the stethoscope off her ears, and engaged her in a kiss.

Clarke was already holding her lover’s face, all she had to do was pull it slightly closer, and their mouths had fallen open. Lexa pressed hard and slipped a tongue, hot and slow that Clarke had moaned. Her fingers trembled over the moving edges of her lover’s jaw. This wasn't a trick to forget pain, but a simple passionate outpour of emotions between two people, regardless of whoever watches. A Sky girl melting helplessly within a grounder's arms, the place she wished only her could stay forever.

“I should’ve figured it was the _Hainof_ that stirred your interest.” A figure casted a wide shadow over them, breaking them apart at once.

Clarke’s cheeks burned rosy as she licked the slimes on her lips, while Lexa simply grew stiff, eyes dark, with her wounded arms ready to strike if necessary.

But Clarke placed a gentle palm at Lexa’s thigh to calm her, as the Sky girl began to recognize the voice that had disturbed their little haven. It was Luna. The grounder she met in one of the Heda’s parties.

Luna, in a thin dark dress clearly for bathing, cruised around them, sauntered a bit forward and decided to prop herself to their front left.

“Luna.” Clarke smiled at her, still brushing the tension away from Lexa’s leg as the memory of that night Luna was talking about played in her mind. It was the party when Clarke was feigning anger at Lexa after learning she’ll eventually engage in this polygamy bullshit.

“I didn’t think you’ll remember that night,” she told Luna, who sent has a smirk in response.

The grounder pushed aside the shaggy black hair that fell on her eyes. “ _Hainof_ ,” she bowed to Lexa, who, as a practice, nodded in acknowledgment amidst the suspicions she still could not hide.

“Her name is Luna,” Clarke asserted. “We attended one of Heda’s parties together.”

“—where she never joins our grounder gossips,” supplied Luna, shaking her head. “Nah, she don't. Not until the subject of the Heda was served on the table. Your Sky girl doesn’t know that a Heda could have a wife then..” Luna nodded towards Clarke. “Now she’s about to be one.”

Lexa’s green eyes twitched, caught in the moment for a while before her gaze fell. “It remains my deepest hope,” replied Lexa softy, a small sad smile curling at her lips. They all know how uncertain the claim was. How sorely untrue it was.

“In that Square, you made it clear you were inseparable,” Luna went on, managing to sound bold yet reverent at the same time. “If you ask me, I wouldn’t mind you marrying her whatever parts that child in her womb has. The next Heir’s birth mother be dammed.”

A surprised, perplexed look passed between Clarke and Lexa.

“You are the first grounder who has ever said that,” said Lexa quickly, the emotionless mask suddenly hanging on her face.

“Our people don’t all succumb to folly, _Hainof_ ,” Luna expressed with polite respect, cream sand crawling up her feet as she shifted. “Something’s hideous in our ways. Many can see it, if you must know, but they fear for their heads, and fears what others might say if they don’t submit to copulation.”

A little stretch of time was spent in silence. Clarke’s brain exploded with possibilities as she once again sat back against Lexa’s inner leg. Lexa, in turn, laced an arm around her shoulders.

The Heir stared at Luna, eyes conveying a reprimand. “Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I believe you won’t chop my ugly head for saying the truth. The people knows the Heda lacks a heart, something we well know you have.”

“I’m not Heda yet,” reminded Lexa. “The only heads I can chop are people who forces me into combat.“

The other grounder agreed like she expected Lexa’s answer. “Will that change if I say I don’t want to do it?” Luna dragged her dirty feet to herself as she sent a doubtful glance at her future Heda, then looked away like she was embarrassed, before continuing reluctantly. “I do not wish to undergo copulation.”

A certain blonde head swished to Lexa, who was surprisingly calmer than the sea.

“What’s your reason for this?” the Heir clarified.

Luna cleared her throat, eyes scanning the darkening skies. “Like you, I’m involved with a woman, a _Podakru_ ,” she confessed with a hint of sadness. “We have long seen the absurd oddity of this society. Everyday we notice we are happy to share life by ourselves, and never once dreamt of raising children.”

Lexa’s face was stone, albeit a little probing, and it was actually Clarke whose emotions had geared to overdrive. She’s somewhat frustrated not to pick Lexa’s thoughts at the moment, because she of course wished Lexa would grant Luna’s request right there and then.

 _Two less women to fuck_ , Clarke thought. It relieved her in a way, and it was painfully pathetic.

But when Lexa gave a nod to Luna, the Heir’s simple, succinct expression of approval, Clarke wasn’t sure of whether to curb the guilt nudging her, or to suppress the solace she felt with the permission.

“You must not speak of this to anyone,” ordered the Heir in exchange. “Not even to your family.”

“Just my woman,” promised Luna, a genuine smile of gratitude now crossing her face.

Still trapped between Lexa's knees, Clarke was struggling to wrap her head around what was happening as Luna's brown eyes continued to glow in sparkles. A plea, more valuable than an acre of land, granted in seconds. Who wouldn't rejoice?

Still, Clarke couldn't guess who among the three of them was the happiest.

The grounder sprang to kneel on one knee and extended a hand to Lexa. “We’ll see you around the city, my Commander. Or since we were to evade copulation under your reign, then perhaps not?”

Lexa smirked. She seemed to brood for a long while, that Clarke thought Luna would tire kneeling there for nothing. But in the end, Lexa decided to return the handshake with another smirk. “Deal.”

 

 

/ / / 

 

 

The day deepened after Luna disappeared somewhere in the immensity of the beach.

Yet, the time that passed was too short for Clarke. She’s only asked Lexa how sure she was of the decision, to which her lover replied a quick ‘yes,’ pronounced very certainly. Clarke wished to dig deeper into the reasons behind this, but decided against it in lieu of enjoying this tranquil togetherness at the shores. Only to regret everything when a couple of horses galloped towards their peaceful space.

One of the warriors, Echo, climbed down her brown mount, dipped her head at Clarke and bowed lower at Lexa.

“ _Hainof_ ,” she called. “Heda sent us to fetch you.”

“Why?”

A discreet hesitance washed through Echo’s features as she looked over her shoulder to the other warrior, who was at that instant, was observing the people enjoying the waters. Having ensured she was out of earshot, Echo glanced from Lexa to Clarke before speaking. “The second punishment,” she revealed in a low voice.

Lexa’s eyes widened but never made a move to stand. “And?”

Echo bit her lip. “Heda announced it in the throne room while you’re gone. She said the second punishment must commence before the next cutting ceremony.”

And just like that, Clarke’s euphoria bubble burst in thin air. The positive ecstasy that enveloped her moments ago— just moments ago, had suddenly spiraled into denial and worry.

The universe has got to be kidding her. Lexa, who had just avoided bedding two women in love, is now in a snap of a finger, being plunged onto the bed of the most horrendous cunt in Polis.

With hands still curled around Clarke, Lexa tensed, her heart beating audibly. “Who heard all these?”

“The People. It could not be disputed, Heda says.”

“Was a day marked?”

“It wasn’t carved in stone,” explained Echo. “Within the week was what she pronounced. She mentioned that she can’t wait for all your wounds to heal.“

A series of wind hustles sailed around them as Lexa returned no reaction of any sort. Clarke can’t place a finger on what she was thinking— was Lexa considering a retort to Echo, or simply planning how she must kill the Heda already.

“ _Hainof_ ,” asserted Echo once more, unable to tolerate the lack of reaction anymore. “We were asked to escort you to her chambers.”

“Tell her I’ll meet her there myself after sunset,” deadpanned Lexa, causing a reluctance in Echo, before the warrior bowed and turned her back to leave.

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Only after the gallop of horses faded that any of them dared create a significant movement. It was Clarke who did, and it came with two fists closing at Lexa’s collars, pulling the grounder to her, and devouring her plump lips hungrily.

Lexa leaned forward, lapping at Clarke’s soft lips until they were both breathless.

But it wasn’t long when she needed to pull back, not because she wanted to but because she felt the stream of tears leaking from the Sky girl’s eyes.

“Clarke?”

“Don’t mind me.” Clarke shook her head while sweeping her cheeks dry, then pulled Lexa close again.

The grounder permitted one shallow kiss. “Clarke,” she inclined farther, searching the blonde’s blue, watery eyes. “We’ve ran from this discussion long enough.”

In a failed attempt to drown the emotion, a painful shriek escaped from Clarke’s throat and it embarrassed her. The sudden turn of events struck her like a cold liquid, as the denial she took solace from for weeks was finally over.

“It’s really happening, isn’t it?” she managed, now leaning away from Lexa. “If I hadn’t been too stubborn, maybe things will have gone differently—”

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Lexa. “We both know this is motivated by Heda’s obsession to continue the bloodline with Esmé.”

Clarke was aware of that. Still, she wasn’t sure how the fact would stop her tears from falling.

“Clarke, listen to me,” urged Lexa, sounding hopeful as her brown curls swaying with the rush of cold air. “It will be one night. One single time—”

Clarke eardrums snapped like she was punched in the head, and she had never felt more nauseous. A vein in her brain might have ruptured as she recalled the dialogue she had with Abby that morning : Lexa needs to spill her seed inside a woman only _once_ , and the rest would be history.

Clarke was so lost that she failed to notice Lexa was still talking.

“…it will be over before we know it, and we will move on like it did not happen.”

At this, Clarke avoided Lexa’s sincere eyes to the benefit of the waves that broke at the shores.

This discussion was a long time coming, but the time they let pass certainly had not eased anything in any way. Though in hindsight, nothing would have helped anyway. It wasn’t as though they can plan an escape.

In truth, she hoped the whole mess would vanish like smoke. She hoped for some kind of miracle, or a falling star she could wish on to prevent this. But, as it happens, she was only chasing a pleasant dream when there was only nightmare in the horizon.

“Lexa,” she called softly, weak and regretful, eyes reddish with tears. “I don’t know how we can continue after that,” she choked out honestly.

The thought had bothered Clarke for a while. The more she thinks about it, the more convinced she was that Lexa and her could not stay in a relationship so affectionate after Lexa had shared a bed with someone else.

There was nothing but confusion on the grounder’s face. “What are you talking about?”

“It has really been nice, Lex.” Clarke’s voice was breaking while she tries hard not to burst into a humiliating sob. “It was perfect having received that cape in front of your people, and kissing you before them. But the punishment is meant to give Costia your seed,” she paused to compose herself even as her heart clenched within her ribcage. “And I can’t promise to be the same while knowing you’ve lain with another woman, who would later bear your child.”

“Clarke,” Lexa’s eyes began to moisten then. She doesn't look sad at all, her expression was of disbelief, and something else. Something that says she was shattering to tiny pieces inside. “Clarke, you’re scaring me.” The words were barely a gush of air from her usual composed mouth.

“Lexa, I beg you to understand,” Clarke collected the grounder’s hands. They were cold and stiff and limp. “I wasn’t raised in this culture. Yes, duty always comes first, I understand that. If it was any other circumstance which does not involve sex, I will be happy to stay by your side in your term as Commander. But this— this apparent infidelity is something I have no idea how to deal with.”

“You are my _Niron_ ,” reasoned Lexa. “I told you, you will stay with me.”

“—where I would share you with the mother of the Heir,” Clarke pointed out no matter how painfully this was breaking her too. “I’d hate to be the source of friction in that house for the rest of our lives. I do not wish to create the same poisonous environment you grew up in, knowing my innocent child, and the future Heir would be around it.”

Lexa rose from the sand. Clarke had never seen her tense like this. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Home. You—” Lexa stuttered, the reddish tint in her face was too scattered to be a blush. “You have to go home,” she took a deep breath, eyes brimming with tears. “I’ll rush back to see Heda.”

“Lex, please. I’m not saying you can’t see us, I just couldn’t live in the same place—” Clarke attempted to hold Lexa’s hand. Not the best idea as she just gave the grounder the leverage to hold her and urge her to the horses.

Their mounts waited peacefully, and stirred at their masters’ anxious approach.

“Take extra care. The forest will get dark soon,” warned Lexa as she lifted Clarke up.

The Sky girl paid the words no mind.“Lexa, bedding is your duty to the People,” she grudgingly reminded.

“Bedding be dammed!” exclaimed Lexa. She was shaking terribly, her body, her lips. Her green eyes had morphed viscously as a serpent, which in a moment snapped back to gentleness when Clarke’s gentle eyes searched them.

“I’m making it my personal duty to make you stay. I can’t lose you, Clarke,” Lexa pleaded , the brave Heir of Polis begging as if her life depends on this. “I can’t.” She tried but failed to blink the tears away from her eyes, before wheeling around and hurried to her stallion.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There seemed to be a cumbersome weight at her feet as she struggled with every step. The stairs were getting steeper in her ascent, the curves darker. Lexa’s chest sinks deep as she huffs in anger, with a bit of exhaustion adding to the emotion. She pressures her mind to hold on, as vividly as it can, to the last image of Clarke’s beautiful face. The Sky girl’s worried, regretful look under her smooth golden hair, as she towered up the very mare she’d gifted her.

Lexa had never felt more terrified in her entire existence. In fact, this may have been the only time she ever felt as scared as this. There were several things Clarke made her feel, and this thing in her chest now is the most she loathed.

The thought of losing Clarke was unacceptable, it isn’t even up for discussion. Living with The Wife while Clarke stays in the forest, miles away from Lexa, is a misery Lexa doesn’t wish to go through night after night.

These thoughts of the future kept her persistent, pushing her still beaten self up the gruesome flights of stairs.

Lexa was ascending towards a section of the palace unfamiliar to her. The topmost floor, where not many had gone before, save for the Heda and Esme. And perhaps Costia, being their child. A special quarters, as wide as half a floor, that the Commander so fervently built for her precious _Niron_.

What a wicked spite against _Nomon_ , Lexa begrudgingly spat past the already bitter taste of her tongue. Thankfully, Sonja does not care. Sonja never cared for anything other than Lexa, her only daughter and the Heir of Polis.

A barricade of six guards stood by the double doors, made of wood and bronze, carved with intricate curves that made it more grand.

Not one guard flinched at the Heir’s approach, obviously expecting her. They pushed the door quietly, no knocks nor taps nor the slightest announcement of Lexa’s arrival. She was that irrelevant, perhaps.

Lexa advanced into a foyer. A small warm space with candles jutting from its corners. Otherwise it was empty, a mere area to stumble at without the main room directly unfolding. Beyond a wide archway was a massive bed, clean and white, in contrast to the black sleek floor. The bed sported a bronze headboard so high it kissed the ceiling. Its width consumed a quarter of the room, giving adequate space for a sitting area and an oval dining table near the window.

Lexa’s boots skidded over the lustrous tiles, unintentionally producing a squeak at her heels.

“Ah, you’re here,” perceived the Commander before Lexa could step into the light.

The Heir continued forward, halting just a step from the threshold. “You sent for me,” she forced a polite tone. It’s been a practice she’d mastered since she read about diplomacy.

Setting her fork down, the Commander patted her lip with a cloth while Esmé, perched on the adjacent chair, steadily sliced the lamb shank on her plate, paying zero mind at Lexa like she was a ghost.

Esmé was a fine woman, black of hair, poised and lean in figure where Costia had inherited her slender built. But the woman resents Lexa. She despises her more than anything under the sun, leaving Lexa to return the favor for as long as she can remember.

Lexa can’t help to draw the parallels. Had Clarke been in Esmé’s shoes, her dear Sky girl wouldn’t have been this obnoxious. Clarke was sensical and compassionate, Lexa believes.

“I’ve announced the schedule of your second punishment,” began the Commander, then paused to take a long sip of red wine as if this was a celebration. “Do I need to expound? You may have heard the details on your way here.”

Lexa clenched her jaw, heart hammering at her chest as images of Clarke’s shocked face flashed in her head. ”I was told it must happen in no more than seven days.”

“Correct.” The Heda was quick to validate, the excitement in her voice surpassing the clanks of Esmé’s cutlery. “Wouldn’t I be the kindest if I lend this very quarters for that purpose?”

“Heda, if you please—“

“Sprawl here for one whole night,” the Heda beamed. “Or two. Two is better, if you and Costia isn’t exhausted, if you know what I mean..” She narrowed her eyes at Lexa. “You see my dear Heir, it isn’t really a punishment. It will be two unforgettable nights of manic pleasure.”

“Heda,” cut Lexa again as she tries not to retch at the idea the Commander was sketching. “Heda, If you permit, I wish to seek an alternative penalty for my offense.”

Esmé’s head jerked from her plate, the Commander almost choked on her wine, and Lexa wished she did. But fate wasn’t on her side that night. The Heda suffered only a brutal spill of red liquid, flowing down her neck, which Esmé had quickly wiped with a napkin.

“Did you forget that you broke your vow?” The Heda rose, red cape sweeping the polished black floor as she paced from left to right, hands clasped behind. “Did you forget that you betrayed your people for a foreigner?”

Lexa was rather nonchalant. “I broke my vow. You can give me a hundred cuts for it,” she bargained bravely. It didn’t matter if the wounds she had recently incurred had been collectively throbbing, that it gave her difficulty sleeping at night.

“Cuts only inflict physical pain. It won’t be enough to pay for what you did,” the Heda countered, a dangerous venom coloring her tone. “You opened the door of producing an Heir with a woman who is not your People. The women of your generation strive to be your wife. The Sky girl stole that chance from them.”

Lexa gritted her teeth in silence, swallowing the sour truth in what was said. The women of Polis doesn’t all share Luna’s visions, of course. Most would wish Lexa to bed them. Most would clamor for her seed, or bear the Heir so they could live in the palace for the rest of their lives.

“Heda,” Lexa called reverently. “I am involved with Clarke Griffin,” she announced with her whole chest, and paused to allow the truth hang in the air. “I am not Heda yet, and until a new Heir is born, I belong to her. I belong only to Clarke Griffin.”

“Nonsense!” snarled the Heda, lips trembling with anger, so intense that Esmé almost ran to her. “You think giving your cape to her in a spiteful show will make the People accept her?”

“We can’t know what each one of them think,” snapped Lexa. “Some accepts her, some may not—“

“Enough!” interrupted the Heda. “I’m not interested to hear more of your bargains. The punishment stands. You formed a child with the Sky girl, you must create another with Costia.”

“Unless..” Esmé ‘s small voice hissed from the dinner table for the first time. “Unless she kills the Sky girl’s child..”

“What?” Lexa’s nerves heightened, her veins began to boil, as the Heda clapped at her Niron’s suggestion.

“Excellent my love,” she turned to Lexa. “A cup of black tea from the _Fisas_ and the child will be gone.”

Lexa would’ve wept had she trusted the people she was trapped in that room with. The sound of her child's heartbeat, so real and alive, was loudly dancing in her mind. Ocean was a miracle she’d forever share with Clarke, if the roads lead to the worst, she’d rather die than lose that child.

Her feet shifted beneath her tentatively, brain desperately hunting for a solution she had yet to find.

“Just say the word, _Leksa_ ,” the Commander’s voice dared. “And I will order our servants to serve the Sky girl with a meal.”

“No harm will befall Clarke and my child with her!” roared Lexa violently, fed up with how sickening the Heda treats her. She was a disgrace to her. A commodity she used to further her own selfish agenda.

 _She’s gonna pay_ , Lexa believes. _Fate will charge her a costly price_.

Lexa’s knuckles were white at her sides as she realized the need to lie with Costia may be inevitable at this point. And with it, the lost cause of Clarke’s willingness to stay. Lexa couldn’t wait to descend to her quarters, to punch its walls as she chokes in her own loud sobs.

Will a compromise ever present itself? Had she really been doomed to such painful fate?

Lexa could slit the Commander’s throat right then and there. The knife strapped at her leg awaits, ready to be thrown. Not to mention the blades at the dinner table in the unlikely event she’d miss the target. But Lexa isn’t that person. Her _Nomon_ didn’t raise the moral human being she’d become only to yield to such a deed.

Lexa’s shoulders slumped, her knees at their weakest. Her insides were already weeping for her.

“I’ll meet Costia here on the seventh day,” she exhaled in defeat. And without another word, pivoted through the archway and into the foyer.

Her thoughts only bore Clarke’s beautiful face, her body, her intense kisses, her comforting touch and the adorable image of the child they shaped together.

Lexa felt a hundred times more spent than the day she lost volumes of blood. She was beaten inside and out. Absently, she opened the heavy door and, even as she trembles, slammed it thunderously behind her.

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hola.
> 
> I decided to divide the next part into two chapters.
> 
> This right here, about four thousand words, is the Lexa x Costia chapter. 
> 
> Like my original plan, it’s going to have details, which I think some of you could tolerate, while some won’t. I deem this part of my story, and that’s how I wish to tell it. 
> 
> Please realize that you have a choice not to read this part, or the fic altogether. If you chose to venture a bit, perhaps you can stop reading once Costia appears or gets too close. Again, you are SO FREE to leave..
> 
> I hope you won’t though.. the ‘encounter’ (take note of the term) has details because Costia will try hard. It’s detailed, yes, but that’s the farthest it’s going to get.

 

 

She arrived there early.

At the sixteenth hour, as was her plan. Her sister would invade this very chamber at the next tick of the clock; she at least wished to enjoy the gift of solitude before that.

Leaning back against the marble wall of the pool she was immersed at, Lexa hovered her gaze to the little waves surrounding her. Only the intermittent slaps of water provided music under this sphere of calmness. Soaked ’til the chest, her breathing was steady, but her mind had never rushed so fast.

In rustles swift and unclear, the past week flew by. She doesn’t want today to come, she never have. But the world never cared about what she wants. Time kept running, until this day came like the rain, where no force yet existing could possibly stop.

With a heavy sigh, she raised her eyes to the widely opened window to her right. The view was of the ocean and sun, nearly kissing as the day approaches to close. At the highest floor of the palace, she’s detached from the world. Somewhere occupants do as they please without anyone daring to disturb.

She reached for the bottle of wine she’d dumped at the pool edge and poured half a glass. Thick layer of soap bubbles chewed at her black silk robe. Lexa smirked to herself. What an utter folly it was to wear robe in a bath, but that evening she did exactly that. Considering the very purpose of her presence in that place, Lexa was, in the most literal sense, overdressed.

 _Clarke_ , she muttered for only her ears to hear.

Clarke.

Her beautiful, stubborn Sky girl. The woman she believed is her _Niron_. The mother of her child, and the _only_ woman she’d wish to carry her future children.

Lexa _had_ a plan. Asolid ploy to evade the barbaric bedding this island has raised its people up believing. She’d been laying the stones like puzzle for years. A result of an unexpected yet favorable aftermath of one warm afternoon, when she discovered a dusty old book that discussed survivors of the radiation apocalypse. And there, in that narrow corner of the library, Lexa found hope. Between fading letters and brittle yellowish pages, she found faith that her ill fate may possibly be redesigned.

The book mentioned three groups, spread throughout the planet.

The Subsea People, who escaped to the beds of the oceans had the shortest living years. They didn’t expect what a beast the deepest seas were. Most couldn’t stand the struggle and opted to return to the surface, where radiation took their lives at once. Those left underwater fared slightly better, but died within the same year.

The second group, the Subterranean People, chose to hide beneath the earth. For a long time they were mistaken as Polis’ ancestors. But stories written of men existing among them proved otherwise. Some tales said their extinction resulted from lack of basic supplies; while other sources claimed they were killed by several earthquakes following the nuclear holocaust.

Last of the three were those who flew to Space— the Sky People. All versions agree of their paramount technological advancement. But that was the only substantial description Lexa found about them. They were the most undocumented cluster. No one has laid an eye on a Sky person, and with the terrible fortune that crushed the first two groups, Lexa’s faith on their existence had dwindled to nothing.

Until that one night she sat alone in her balcony.

The sky was moonless then, grey and still, that when a light too huge and bright to be a dead star fell from the sky, Lexa wondered profoundly. And while everyone panicked over the huge object that crashed the trees, the People’s Heir was already _en route_ towards the forest in stealth. Her sole objective was to verify if the intruders were human, which would mean that one, they aren’t a threat to her land, and two, that another race exists somewhere in the universe.

Lexa hid by thick trunks, her usual black tunic and warpaint providing the perfect camouflage. She waited cautiously, eyes creeping around the metal object that had so strongly rocked the ground. Little did she know that the human, with a rasp voice and golden hair, that walked out of it would rock her world too. 

Clarke.

The gloomy forest blurred the Sky girl’s features then. Lexa hardly remembers if she saw the foreigner’s face, but knew as much that it was human, and a girl like everyone in Polis.

Soundless and cautious, she withdrew from the tree. She used the same skirts on the way back, until a faint noise of warriors ready to swarm the foreign ship made her stir towards the main path. Her stallion sprung from the dark woods, vacuuming the warriors’ head to its powerful gallop.

‘Indra,’ she called authoritatively, her black mount rushing to the woman’s brown horse. ‘Rally your warriors back. The intruder isn’t a threat.’

The _Trikru_ leader’s jaw tightened, eyes wide in shock.

‘A human, I’ve confirmed,’ vouched Lexa when Indra’s expression could not erase the doubt. ‘ _Human_ , not an extraterrestrial being. And a woman like our People.’ She patted the skeptical warrior by the shoulders without waiting for a word. ‘I’ll inform Heda myself.’

Indra’s eyes narrowed, her lips tight. But soon commanded one warrior to blow the horn of retreat.

As Lexa rode between parted rows of disappointed warriors, her chest overflowed with hope. Her thoughts, of course, revolved around bringing more of the Sky People in the island, and not she, herself, actually being _involved_ with one. In fact, the idea had never crossed her preoccupied mind. No. Not until weeks later when the very Sky girl she scouted tripped into her own chambers.

Clarke.

The blonde who has owned every bit of her in no time.

It was unfortunate that Heda caught them when absolute power was almost within her grasp. Now, she’s bound to sink her cock inside a woman who isn’t that Sky girl.

Her people were wrong. The _Houmon_ isn’t the only woman who must possess a heart of stone. To Lexa, the Commander must hone the toughest chest. Heda, who must bed different women, over and over, in decades, must carve a rough heart to the point of losing all emotions altogether.

 _Clarke_ , she repeated silently as her consciousness was dragged back to the present.

Lexa exhaled a downhearted sigh, and drover her ears to wake. From a distance, an audible crackle brought a tight grimace to her face.

The sound, unmistakably, belonged to a heavy door opening and closing.

 

* * *

 

 

“Lexa?”

The cry was sweet from beyond the bathroom, piped in average volume but loud enough to be heard. There were no doors here save the main, and partitions were connected only by archways.

Lexa gave her glass a slow twirl before washing her throat with its deep purple contents. As though detecting her actions, a loud pop of a cork from a newly opened bottle echoed from the main room.

“ _Hainof_ are you here?”

Lexa lifted her eyes and noted how the sun has darkened a little. Guzzling another glass of liquor, she rolled her damp sleeves up. Healing scars came into view one cut after the last. But it was the small prick inside her right elbow that she brushed with two fingers. The thing had ached for hours, though now it’s merely a small reddish dot. Lexa winced. In truth, she didn’t mind the pain it brought to her veins; all she wants is the success of this scheme she came up with.

“Ah, there you are!” Costia’s head peeped past the bath’s archway entrance, a gold goblet, containing what must be liquor too, dangled on her hand. As usual, her black hair was tied up clean, and it didn’t come as a surprise that she was nearly uncovered— wearing only a thin white satin robe, parted at the chest. “I saw your clothes hanging back there. You were early.”

“So are you.”

Two caramel eyes traced the short length of the round pool that encased Lexa before they traveled back to the Heir’s impassive demeanor. “Have you been bathing long?”

“No.”

Costia batted her lashes. They were long and curled to perfection that day. “Must we luxuriate in bed soon, or shall I plunge there and join you?”

“No.” Lexa’s reply was for both options.

A sarcastic chuckle. “Heda _biyo yu nou gaf_.” (Heda predicted you’ll resist.) The woman pressed herself onto the archway’s marble column. “I have speculations on why that is.. but I wish not speak more of that foreigner tonight.”

“Her name is Clarke,” spit the Heir with biting venom. “Spite on her once more and you’ll taste the strength of my arms.”

“Oh?” In a dramatic pretense, Costia’s free hand trailed to her chest. “For a deceitful foreigner who uses you so her People has somewhere else to live? You wound me, my sweet sister. You wound our little family for one lost and homeless foreigner.”

The fierce wrinkle in Lexa’s brows trumpeted her opposition. Clarke wasn’t all those. A foreigner, yes, but is definitely not a deceitful user. In fact, the clouds of fate may have carried her to Polis in purpose. Perhaps she was thrown to Lexa because that was exactly where she must be.

Lounging on her seat, the Heir frowned, eyes dark and mostly certain. “You know, it’s high time this family accept that I’m _involved_ with Clarke Griffin—“

“Nonsense,” the dark-haired woman almost dropped the goblet clipped only between her fingertips. Her lips, of vibrant crimson hue, had trembled a little. Then, she seemed to check the ill behavior. For three good seconds, she ironed the little crease marks on her face. “This evening can’t be about her, _Hainof_ ,” she said. “It’s about you and me.”

“There’s no you and me, Costia.”

“Really?” the woman sounded confident. Like a dancer, she glided in delicate grace towards the pool. Bending over, she placed the goblet on the marble edge, rather exaggeratedly as if to make her knees slice the white robe that hugged her body. “We’ll see about that.” She plucked the tie from her hair to unleash untangled strands of smooth black hair.

She’s attractive, Lexa had to admit. Inheriting a good mix of opulent and stern features native to the _Azgedan_ beauty of her mother, Costia looked rather exotic in plain land. Though her skin lost its fair complexion over years of riding around the Capital and hunting from forest to forest, the woman’s appeal still managed to turn tons of heads whenever she struts around— crowds Lexa had _once_ been a part of. Even in shame, the future Commander couldn’t deny that her sister had, at one point in time, been her object of infatuation. Thankfully, fate has ways of flashing the mirror of truth to everyone. Stripped off of her pretty physique, Costia was only a younger version of the Heda; of visions and traits Lexa could not stomach.

“So,” the woman’s fingers trailed to her navel, fiddling with the only knot that kept her white robe closed. “Shall I remove this now, or will you rip it in pieces later?”

“Is there any chance in the heavens we escape this?” Lexa excruciatingly kept her attitude neutral. “In a few moons I’ll be Heda. Let me grant you a special plea, just name it.”

The Commander’s most loyal daughter dipped her toes into the water, as though testing its temperature, then began descending through the semicircle staircase, until she was soaked to the waist. Lexa was rather pleased that the woman left her robe on. “First, you’re forced to bed me, and now you offer this?” the woman said. “You insult me, my lovely Heir. But even you can’t escape this! Like it or not, I’ll soon be your wife.”

Swallowing a nasty comment, the Heir shook her head. “No one knows what you’ll birth.”

Costia’s face disappeared beneath the waters, and seconds later emerged wet inches from where Lexa was lounging peacefully. “We live under the same roof,” the grounder’s voice prevailed over drops of water flowing down her tan jaw. “Heda says a second, third or fourth child isn’t a far possibility.”

The Heir sucked on another glass of a much needed wine. She pressed against the stone behind, hardly, painfully, but there was no more space to retreat.

 _The sooner this is over, the sooner circumstances can proceed,_ she reminded herself soundlessly.

In truth, she has acquiesced to the punishment’s inevitability. Spending the last six days brooding over this very insanity made it clear that it must be squeezed into the equation. ‘ _The only way to break free is to walk through it_ ,’ was the mantra circulating around her head as she designed a way out.

Thus carrying all courage she collected, Lexa showed up today to fulfill that very mantra. In the next hours, her soul would wear a heavy layer of obnoxious guises, and of winces wrapped with feigned enthusiasm. It’s impossible to escape Heda’s power.

She can’t, no. Not until she can.

“We’re caught in disputes lately,” her sister was saying, tone highly entitled as she plucked the wineglass from Lexa’s palms. Finishing the drink, she deposited its glass onto the marble behind. She was close, enough for Lexa to smell the _Azgedan’s_ familiar scent of pines and mountains. “But you and I had wonderful memories.. and in this beautiful night we have to ourselves, I beg that we only dwell on those.”

Lexa’s chest pounded violently. _Clarke_. _I only want Clarke_ , her brain screamed silently, even as warm fingertips surreptitiously slid under her black robe, lightly crawling through her collarbones in an obvious attempt to remove the clothing.

With a sour grunt, the Heir was quick to discard the robe altogether. _Only Clarke must enjoy the privilege of undressing me_ , she thought, whilst grudgingly lobbing the soppy robe to the edge.

The act was welcomed with playful giggles.

With warm water now inch by inch embracing her naked skin, Lexa smirked unnoticed. The exact reason she lured Costia to the bath was this— to use the foamy water as blanket in concealing her private parts, for as long as she can, at least.

Unable to comprehend this, her sister was rather delighted. “Heavens!” exclaimed the woman. “Heda would love to learn how excited you were to fuck me!” She giggled to breathlessness before her arms disappeared below the waters.

When they emerged up, they were tossing a limp white robe away, leaving the woman of Lexa’s teenage fantasy nude before her eyes. The sylphlike figure of _Kostia kom Azgeda_ , breasts ample, dark crotch hairs trimmed to nothing, covering a maiden and willing center, was literally offered for Lexa to rip apart devouring. Years ago, she would’ve taken the bait. Unlucky for her foes, her eyes have openedAll the more unfortunate for them is that she has met a Sky girl. Someone named Clarke Griffin, who has surpassed all women she knew in beauty and intellect.

Still, Lexa faked a silly smirk. One which would trick Costia into assuming she’s interested. For the Commander must be told delusions. She must hear fake tales of the Heir’s commitment to this ‘penance.’ And what better source to spill them but her favorite daughter’s raving mouth?

“Lead me on, you comely you.” The woman’s hips pressed between Lexa’s knees, her brown nipples wildly exposed to the setting sun. “I have not done this before..” Hungry yet inexperienced hands trailed to the Heir’s chiseled abdomen.

 _Clarke loved to touch me there_ , was everything Lexa thought about, and it has brought shallow tears to her eyes. She wondered what Clarke was doing that very second, and hoped she was okay along with the child in her womb. Lexa hadn’t seen them since the beach, too embarrassed to present her face after failing to negotiate an alternate penalty.

The succeeding days were cycles of agony. It made nights colder and more empty than it had been in years. But Lexa was done hurting herself. Tomorrow, or even tonight, after she’d rub herself clean of another woman’s scent, she’d ride to Clarke’s metal home.

She’ll keep both ears open to Clarke’s sharp words so long as she hears her voice. Perhaps Clarke would refuse to touch her again. But no matter, Lexa doesn’t expect to be forgiven; she just needs to see them.

“I always think about the time we kissed,” mused Costia, clearly far from running out of steam. Her hands were now crawling up Lexa’s jaw, and her caramel eyes were lingering at the Heir’s full lips. “Don’t you?”

“No.”

Humming, Costia thumbed Lexa’s abdomen once again, this time with her free hand. “You’re going to kiss me, right?” her hand inched lower. “Tonight?”

Swallowing deeply, Lexa contemplated what answer was wise to state. However long her list of pretenses went, any form of bringing her mouth near Costia was ruled out. But her deep pondering was terminated suddenly by the feel of hands sinking lower down her body. With a hand now at Lexa’s navel, it only took seconds before Costia finally arrived at her cock.

A barely perceptible gritting almost shattered Lexa’s perfect set of teeth. Even while she’d long prepared mentally for practically prostituting herself as service to the People, being submerged to the very experience didn’t make it easier. In fact, the feeling may have worsened now that she wished to be touched solely by one woman.

‘Sometimes when I’m in the mood, I let the women touch me,’ the Commander would tell her. ‘You’ll be surprised how their eyes bulge in awe of a phallus. Once they see me erect, they simply can’t help but stroke my hardness.’ The Commander would laugh. ‘I tell you, some are even adept at eating the meat! A pleasure, true, but I worry my seed would burst onto their tongues and the ceremony would’ve been for nothing.’

“You are long..” Costia may have hummed more than once, while her fingertips traced the shaft’s length. Her brown eyes burned hungrily, even while missing the visual of what she was holding. Seemingly satisfied regardless, Costia gasped, as if a dream of hers had finally came true. “I have no words to express how I feel holding you this way.” She flashed a smile, so genuine that Lexa almost pitied her.“Do you feel it?”

“I can feel your hands.” The Heir swallowed. The contact of skin was strong below, but unlike her familiar urge beneath Clarke’s hands, any form of sexual stimulation was absent within Lexa. She wasn’t numb down there; she could sense the tender strokes, but doesn’t feel anything else. No arousal, no excitement, nothing.

_It’s working._

“Go on, _Hainof_ , get hard for me,” a sinful tone swathed the voice in sync with the tempting brushes running up and down Lexa’s long sword. “How much larger would you be at full length? Do you think I can take it?” Costia licked her own crimson lips. “How wet was that Sky girl when she seduced you?”

The question had unexpectedly injected a vivid image of a naked, aroused Clarke onto Lexa’s consciousness. And as if methodically, her flaccid cock twitched to attention.

 _Spichen! No!_ Lexa soundlessly chastised herself in a _Trigedasleng_ curse. Pivoting abruptly, her hip revolved a full one-eighty, freeing her long cock to float underwater. Reaching sharply for wine, she swallowed mouthfuls directly from its bottle.

Snatching liquor from Lexa for the second time that evening, Costia turned the Heir by the shoulders, pinning her inches from her own remorseful face. “My apologies,” she was surprisingly unfazed, as her breath landed on Lexa’s chin. “I shouldn’t have said that, and now you’re thinking about her.”

“I think about her every minute of every day,” confessed Lexa in retaliation as she finally commanded her member to relax. It had thankfully gone dormant again the moment her brain realized that it wasn’t the Sky girl she was alone with in that bathroom.

Deliberately ignoring what was said though, Costia was suddenly aggressive. “Touch me,” she ordered, forcing the Heir’s hands against her tan, round breasts, both resting just above the surface of the water.

“That’s not necessary.” Lexa retrieved her limbs rather abruptly, causing water and soap to splash to their face. “Please excuse the foam,” she said politely, and thankfully escaped stuttering when she said her next words. “I need not touch you, Costia. My meat has gone excited without much stimulation before.” She feigned a smirk to punctuate the half-lie.

And it was that instant that she observed a gnawing fatigue weakening her muscles. Lexa maintained a stoic facade, whilst calculating that the second wave of this drama was a bit early. _Seems the liquor has overdone its job_ , she guessed as she attempted to shake it. _Perhaps I could hold on to the bath for a bit longer._

Unfortunately, she had little success doing so. Fatigue kept dragging her down, and had only lurched back to present when a determined Costia moved closer, and closer still, clearly in pursuit of Lexa’s lips.

The Heir instinctively moved sideways.

A livid glare. “What on earth Lexa?!“

“Costia— I think it’s the wine..” The Heir fired back at her sister’s ire. “I’m.. I feel _very_ sleepy.”

The veracity of the statement was pure. Lexa was aware she won’t function sexually tonight, and liquor, she was told, must lull her to sleep. She expected to feel drowsy, yes, but this weariness was excessive, and too soon.

“Let’s take this to the bed?”

“No, no. That’s not what I meant.” Swiveling, Lexa pushed herself off of the pool, unmindful of her naked behind now clearly visible to Costia. Had her testicles been the sagging kind, they would’ve been visible to her too.

Lexa teetered forward. On the bathroom peg, a couple of fresh towel-like robes were hanged. She seized one, then staggered through the archway and into the bedroom. Her body was too worn to reach her quarters without collapsing. _Perhaps a short rest in Heda and Esmé’s bed wouldn’t hurt_.

She was spreading the dry robe across her muscular back when her sister came stealing the garment. Costia moved like a snake on a mission, sly and swift that Lexa only had seconds to let go and grab her crotch instead.

With genitals covered, Lexa strode to where she’d left her usual black clothes earlier that afternoon.

But, in full strength, Costia managed to pull her to where she had always targeted to. A display of powerful biceps, it seems.

Thus far, Lexa was the strongest and most strategic grounder in Polis. No one has defeated her in one on one combat. However true that was, the Heir knew better than to underestimate her opponents. And she was fully aware that having trained under Heda’s tutelage, _Kostia kom Azgeda_ was nearly an equal.

Plummeting on her naked back to the soft bed, Lexa groaned. The punishing fatigue crept up once again, more cruel now, and her instincts predict she can’t last longer. Rest is what she needs _badly_ at the moment.

“Costia, I consumed more wine than necessary—“

“I wish to see all of you,” insisted an unheeding, fairly drunk Costia. Climbing the wide bed, she mounted the Heir, clipping her knees on either side of the future Commander’s perfect waist.

Even in an almost unconscious state, Lexa senses the rich wetness dripping to her own navel. The liquid was warm, and too viscous to be just water and soap.

“I want your thick cock to enter me—“

“Cos-tia I’m not toying with you—“

“—pump it in and out of my swollen hole until the last drop of seed has spilled in my womb..”

The woman gave a careful knead at her sister’s unclothed breasts, while her buttocks was busy pressing at the hands that faithfully cloaked Lexa’s pelvis.

The future Commander knows her energy was nearly drained. Soon, she must relent to Costia’s madness; to the desperate thirst like that of a female wolf craving to mate.

Few more attempts had Lexa removing the cup off of her groin. In any case, this phase of the theatrics was inevitable. And she has stalled it long enough.

Excited, Costia slid lower, eyes darting to the Heir of Polis’ mammoth of a shaft. Its soft length had regrettably suffered traces of the woman’s slimes.

Costia stared at the Heir’s groin for a long time that it appears a heart attack might have paralyzed her. Few more moments passed and still the woman’s jaw was wide agape, her pretty face in awe, as if embodying the eager women of Heda’s own erotic stories.

All these reactions, Lexa witnessed through half-opened eyes. _Let her broadcast tales of my nakedness,_ her mind murmured. _But she can’t tell stories of my erection, much less, my taking of her virtue._

Using a shaking thumb, Costia caressed the cock’s water-coated pink head. Despite the effort though, the useless organ still couldn’t find its erection. Her own nipples were more erect than Lexa’s flaccid cock.

The poor _Azgedan_ has achieved nothing, even after everything.

Raising her dilated pupils, she searched the Heir’s sleepy green irises. “Your cock can’t get its soft form to harden,” deep disappointment leaked in the tone. “Why?”

Lexa only had the strength to blink at the woman on top of her. “Because you..” she managed to whisper at her weakest state. “Because you.. are not.. Clarke.”

Then her heavy eyes closed helplessly.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A *very* short one. Not much progress, but it's all I have for now.
> 
> xx

 

 

 

Leaning against the backrest of her work chair, Clarke tidied the edges of her masterpiece. It was nearly midnight and she can’t yet find the will to sleep. Dawn had become her bedtime lately; midnight was rather early to lie down.

Littered all over were charcoal sketches of her family. On the tables, by the floor, at the couch. She’d drawn several versions of them. Her, Abby and Jake, that is. For the past days, she’d been attempting to accept that them was the only complete family she’ll ever experience since unfortunately, her supposed own family with Lexa will always have one member missing.

And it’s not like Clarke would ever find the will to embrace the idea of a new partner.

Her supposed lover hadn’t shown her gorgeous face since the night they parted. Seven days it’s been, and Clarke had badly longed for the grounder’s plump lips and comforting caresses.

She knew the reason though. She knew why Lexa kept such a distance. The news came flying to her ears the very next morning, on her daily sunrise stroll by the beach. ‘ _Hainof’s_ punishment is confirmed to commence in seven days,’ hushed the gossipers. ‘The good Heda offered her own love chamber for the ceremony.’

Clarke had gone home right away, crying despite the beautiful chilly morning. It meant Lexa failed to bend the arrangement. What happened exactly, Clarke wasn’t sure, though if she ever knew Lexa, she’d be certain the woman wouldn’t relent except on matters of life and death.

Still, enduring the mere thought of it was a challenge. Poisoning her chest was a strong and immovable selfishness. ‘Our People are famed for strength and resilience,’ Jake Griffin used to tell her as a child. He was right, mostly at least, because growing up, Clarke learned that the Sky People were humans too. Humans vulnerable to bitterness and jealousy, which were the foul, dark emotions currently clouding her soul like black smoke.

The loathsome bedding was scheduled that very night. _It probably is done by now_ , she guessed, and Clarke honestly doesn’t want to imagine where Lexa had been in the past hours.

Her watery eyes flicked from the messy canvas, to the idle sofa at the far left. Near its foot, a small crumpled parchment she’d tossed earlier laid like trash. Clarke got to her feet. Advancing, she crouched to pick the paper up and carefully opened its wrinkled form flat on her knee.

 _I’ll see you tomorrow_ , said the crooked carbon scribble.

If Clarke closed her eyes, tight enough, and long enough, she’d hear Lexa‘s voice whisper those on her ears.

She recalled how her body jerked upon detecting Echo at her surveillance that afternoon. Knowing well the warrior was only around at Lexa’s bidding, she promptly pushed her front door open.

‘ _Hainof_ wants you to have this.’ the grounder announced in Trigedasleng, and pressed a tiny paper onto her palm.

‘Where the hell is she?’ Clarke was more frustrated than indignant. ‘Will they really subject her to the punishment?’

‘That’s a question I have no position to answer, Sky girl,’ returned the grounder in her usual baritone voice. 

And then she was gone, before Clarke could ask another question she had no authority to answer.

Shutting the main door, Clarke slammed her back onto its cold metal surface, her head raised to the sky she at that instant could not see beyond the metal roof of her home. Absently, she wished Echo could’ve at least shed light on the situation in the palace, and how Lexa was coping with it. Most of all, she wished Lexa would’ve ridden to the forest herself. Just so Clarke could see her; talk to her, instead of this stupid piece of paper she asked her warrior to deliver.

_I’ll see you tomorrow.._

A sudden loud buzz brought the recollection to a stop, stirring chaos onto her otherwise peaceful night. Thinking it was Lexa, Clarke didn’t shift an inch from where she was still crouching.

 _‘Tomorrow,’ not tonight. Tonight is too soon_ , _Lexa_. _Tonight isn’t even a day after you scraped your dick into Costia’s disgusting cunt._

Another buzz. Impatient this time, that made Clarke finally check the screen above head.

It wasn’t Lexa at her doorstep. And this somehow left her relieved yet utterly disappointed.

Outside, a white light shone over the wide perimeter, casting a bright pathway to the door, as if to announce the arrival of Clarke’s midnight visitors. Directly below the camera was a rather unambiguous picture of Abby Griffin’s head. The doctor shivered intermittently as she hugged herself amidst the freezing wind. Beside her, seemingly more tolerant of the weather was Raven Reyes, who was walking to and fro whilst surveying the exterior of the very ship she designed.

Clarke stashed the paper into her dress pocket and made way for the door.

“Mom?”

Flying in, Abby wrapped her daughter in a protective embrace. She was cold to touch and more slim than Clarke remembered.

“Honey,” Abby pulled back, halting Clarke’s inquisitive gaze on the towering Rover parked at her little yard. “We came to see if you were okay. You haven’t gone to our ship in a week!”

“But mom, it’s kinda late. You could’ve radioed?”

Raven, after pressing one button to kill all lights of her newly assembled vehicle, closed the door. “Told ya,” she directed at Abby, then stalked to the small kitchen and rummaged into the fruit basket.

Abby ignored the taunt. In fact, she appeared to have ignored everything while her thin fingers moved to explore Clarke’s belly. “How’s our little Griffin?”

Perhaps for the first time that day, Clarke found her lips pull to a smile. “She’s kicking more forcefully. I can’t imagine how naughty she’ll be.”

“I wish I still have the energy to chase toddlers!” mumbled the doctor in a dream-like tone, while Clarke slowly retreated to seek comfort on the soft couch. “Have you thought of a better name yet?”

Clarke scoffed. Her mom has consistently stroke ‘Ocean’ off the list, and it only made her want to give the baby the very name. “I would consider if her eyes turn out green.”

Now probably sensing the sadness in her daughter’s demeanor, Abby drew her brow’s together. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh dear god,” yelped Raven from the kitchen counter. An apple in hand, and a knowing spark in her eyes. “Clearly, her voice fell when she said ‘green eyes.’ She‘s depressed over Lexa!”

Abby’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Depressed?”

Nonchalant, the mechanic nodded, as if the little up and down movement explained the bag of thoughts she harbored. Dropping the fruit back on the tray, she advanced, until she’s perched on the couch’s arm, facing Clarke. “When did you last speak to Lexa?”

“Seriously Rae, can we not?”

“Ssshh! Trust me Griffin, there’s nothing more you’d want in the world than answer my question.”

Irritated, Clarke answered the question just to get this over with. “It’s been a week.”

“Bingo!” exclaimed the mechanic, now holding eye contact with Abby Griffin, whose jaw fell like she finally comprehended the unspoken.

Meanwhile, Clarke gaped from her friend’s all knowing rocket science face to her mother’s concerned meek one, but got absolutely nothing. Until Abby decided to take a seat beside her, but only to state the obvious.

“Baby, are you upset that Lexa had to bed the Commander’s other daughter?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. She could swear her blood pressure was rising. “Mom, I’m literally pregnant with her child. Do you think I’d want just a mere shared custody over our baby like a divorced couple?”

“Except,” cut Raven sharply. Kicking her boots off, she lifted a pair of clean feet on the cushions, her soft cotton socks almost brushing Clarke’s thigh. “The bedding you so dread didn’t happen, Griff. It can’t.”

 _Oh, she’s too smart she’s gone crazy_ , thought Clarke. The bedding was an imperative ceremony, even Raven must be aware of that.

Surprisingly though, Abby agreed. “We thought she’ll inform you before it happens, not after,” the doctor elaborated, which only made the tale more vague than it already is.

“Six nights ago, Lexa rode to our ship,” Abby resumed with her usual motherly tone. Her voice bore a heavy ounce of sincerity, that even with eyes pinned to the floor, Clarke was compelled to listen at last. “It was midnight and she wore a hood that we almost refused to let her in..”

Clarke labored to piece a perfect visual of the scene being described. Once in a while, she steals glances at her mother’s face to extract the truth in her eyes. But who was Clarke kidding?The hooded cloak was Lexa’s signature cover-up, that sometimes Clarke herself wonder how effective a disguise it still was. Her mom definitely was not inventing this.

“Lexa said the Commander was unyielding,” continued Abby. “In a week, she must submit to bedding. And honey, she told us you made it clear you’ll leave her because of it.”

“It’s true,” supplied Raven again, vacuuming the blonde’s head to her direction. “She wept on Abby’s shoulders, Clarke. She was so terrified you won’t accept her again. I never thought I’d witness that scene. Her hot, mighty self melted like butter.”

“I don’t understand,” a trembling, baffled Clarke finally asserted. Thisunexpected narrative of Lexa’s breakdown was crushing her heart to pieces. “What did she want? Did she ask you to convince me not to end our affair?”

“No,” Abby looked to Raven first, then slowly to her daughter’s moist blue eyes. “She sought for a serum that would prevent her from achieving an erection.”

 _Lexa did what?_ Clarke had never been so flabbergasted. _What the goddamn hell did she ask for?_

Filling her lungs with much needed air, Clarke tried to think clearly, until an argument pacified her vortex of thoughts. “Mom, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think a serum like that exists?”

“It doesn’t.” Raven, who promptly took the liberty to answer, pursed her lips. “So we created one.”

“Okay,” Clarke got to her feet, one hand on her forehead, and the other resting on the curve of her waist. With mind again churning as fuck, she paced before the two women in her living room. A doctor and an engineer. Of course. Lexa thought this through.

Stopping on her tracks, Clarke searched her mother’s eyes, half-begging all these weren’t some trick. “Is such formulation feasible?”

Abby Griffin raised her head in a gentle nod, few dark circles under her eyes seemingly attesting to sleepless nights of stressful research. “At midday, hours before the presumed bedding, I injected her with it.”

Clarke buried her face into her palms. _Oh my god, what have I done?_ Playing in the darkness was a graphic image of Lexa, lying in a clinic bed to receive intravenous medication her people certainly never heard of, much less utilized. What has Clarke done indeed? Surely nothing that warrants this? Thus despite the presumed success of this deception, she couldn't consider herself triumphant.

“This is my fault,” she thought aloud. “Lexa didn’t have to do any of those..”

“Abby was determined to create one because that villain of a Commander threatened to get rid of your baby,” Raven shifted on her seat. “And actually Griff, Lexa intended this to serve as warning too. For Polis to think she can’t function in bed if not with you.”

“That’s insane!” Clarke’s voice shook with all the emotions even she at that moment could no longer place. Of course, Lexa would save Ocean’s life. But this.. this inability to rouse her sexual weapon is a subtle betrayal of her main duty. A Commander cannot be viewed impotent.

Pacing again, she closed her eyes, causing the unshed tears to push out of it. _I need to see her,_ she thought. _And_ _soon._

“How long does the serum take to wear off?”

“Half a day, according to calculations. Her dose was relatively low,” explained Abby. “The formula also heightens alcohol’s sedative effect. We advised her to take a shot or two if she wants to doze off quickly. She doesn’t want Costia seducing her all night.”

“What about morning?” asked Clarke. "When they wake up together in bed, what would happen then?”

Contrary to their factual responses earlier, the two women on the sofa seem to have swallowed their tongues. Both had trouble answering this new question, and their collective silence stirred paranoia in Clarke, causing unsound forecasts of  possibilities that scared her.

In the end, she decided to take matters into her own hands. From within, a lingering guilt circulates through her veins, but courage has sweetened her blood. Failing to initiate a compromise before was a mistake she admits. Compromise. A little give, and a little take. It wouldn't hurt to offer it to someone who’s given the whole nine yards for her.

Marching towards the door, she plucked a thick coat suspended on the metal peg where Lexa’s gold cloak usually hang.

“Where are you going?” Abby demanded as her daughter spreads the coat across her back.

“To speak to my _girlfriend_ ,” announced Clarke with her whole chest. “She belongs _with_ _me_.”

Then, she disappeared into the darkness outside.

 

 

 

 


End file.
